XFiles Armageddon
by Oneiromancer
Summary: The date of the final invasion Dec. 22 2012 approaches. Exagents Mulder and Scully are in hiding while a new Syndicate forms to create the shadow government that will rule during the invasion. Can the end of the world be averted? Reviews please!
1. Chapter 1

(The X-Files was created by Chris Carter. So I don't own it or the characters within.)

The X-Files

Armageddon

_Please don't tell me this is what my future in the FBI has come to_, thought Agent Dana Scully as the elevator doors slid open and she stepped out into the basement of the J. Edgar Hoover building. _Please don't tell me that for the next however many years; I'm going to be investigating X-files. _

The idea of her, Agent Scully, working on the X-files was ridiculous. She should be out there, in the field, not working with some cuckoo agent whose main purpose in life is proving the existence of aliens. What a waste of a good agent.

But here she was, standing at the door of Fox Mulder's office. It was real. This was all really happening. And even though she thought it a waste, she was determined to give this new assignment her all. Nothing less could be expected from Agent Scully.

She knocked on the door of the office and entered without invitation.

"Sorry, nobody in here but the FBI's most unwanted," Came the voice from inside the room.

The first thing that caught Scully's eye was a poster of a UFO hovering above some trees with the words "I WANT TO BELIEVE" written underneath. The poster was hung on the wall amid other photos of flying saucers. In fact, the entire wall was covered in note cards, photos, and computer printouts – each having to do with UFO's and ET's.

_I'm in Hell_, thought Scully morosely.

A man was hunkered over a light box, his back turned to Scully. This was obviously the enigmatic Agent Mulder.

"Agent Mulder, I'm Dana Scully. I've been assigned to work with you."

Agent Mulder stopped what he was doing and turned to his new partner. He shook her hand in a firm grip. "Oh, isn't it nice to be suddenly so highly regarded?" he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He abruptly let go of Scully's hand and turned back to his light box. "So who'd you tick off to get stuck with this detail, Scully?"

Scully stiffened. So this was Agent Mulder's idea of a warm greeting? Well, so be it. She could play at this game too. "Actually, I'm looking forward to working with you." It was a lie of course. But the words flowed so effortlessly and they sounded so sincere that anybody could be fooled. "I've heard a lot about you."

That seemed to get Mulder's attention. He turned back to Scully, a sly grin on his face. "Oh, really? I was under the impression that you were sent to spy on me."

Yes, Scully was in Hell.

But as the years progressed, things got better. Mulder, once an embarrassment to the FBI, gained a degree of respect from his peers by working with Scully. And Scully herself came to appreciate Mulder's passion and determined spirit.

They started off somewhat at odds, two talented FBI agents from different worlds, each not fully trusting the other. But with each X-file case investigated, they grew closer. From strangers, to colleagues, from friends to eventual lovers – Dana Scully and Fox Mulder's relationship had evolved into one of complete trust and respect.

That strong bond helped the two agents survive many an obstacle. But how would they fare against the end of the world?

…

Mount Weather, Virginia

December 22, 2011

9:30 pm

In a sub-basement level of the Mount Weather governmental instillation, seven men gathered to hear a very important announcement. The men ranged in age from early twenties to late sixties. Each was immaculately dressed in crisp dark suits and somber ties. Upon their arrival at the instillation, they had been escorted down into the sub-levels and led into a lavishly furnished room. The men made idle chitchat amongst themselves while they waited for the leader to arrive.

Five minutes later, the door to the room opened and a woman entered. She was of Hispanic descent, with rich, creamy skin and dark eyes and hair. She was dressed conservatively in a navy pantsuit and simple gold earrings. From the way she carried herself and the way she entered the room – fast and with purpose – it was obvious that this woman was a force to be reckoned with.

"Gentlemen, I'm pleased to finally meet you all," the woman said. Her voice was deep and powerful and carried with it a hint of an accent. "My name is Dona Lola. I'm the head of this little enterprise." She chuckled softly to herself and sat in a chair facing the others. "I'm sure I don't have to tell you that we are in the final stages of the preparation process. In a matter of mere months, project End Game will commence."

The expressions on the men's faces did not change. They knew what was coming. The date of the final invasion was exactly one year away. That fact was terrifying, but it was also rewarding that decade's worth of long, hard work was coming to fruition.

Dona Lola crossed her legs. "We are in the final stages now," she said. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at each man individually. "Whatever happens, whatever unexpected events that might occur between now and then cannot change this planet's destiny. Too much has been accomplished for us to trip up now. So relax, gentlemen. Nothing can stop us."

30 Miles East of Billings, Montana

2:18 am

Six Months Later

Fox Mulder put his white, unmarked van in park and reached into his back pants pocket and pulled out a sheet of paper. He rechecked the coordinates that were listed on the paper for the hundredth time and checked them against the GPS system in the van. Yes, everything matched up. This was the location.

The dark two-story building ahead certainly didn't look like an alien invasion preparation facility. According to the sign out front, it was a computer manufacturing plant. But if there was one thing Mulder had learned from all his years working on the x-files, it was not to take things at face value.

The night air was chilly as he exited the van. He left the driver's side door open. Closing it would create a noise and might bring unwanted attention. The parking lot and the building itself looked dark and empty, but there was that thing about not taking things at face value.

Mulder calmly walked across the deserted parking lot and climbed up a small hill at the back. Crouching low amongst the bushes, he looked at the piece of paper again. These _were_ the coordinates. This _was_ the location. These were facts, but what if there was some mistake? What if that building actually was a computer plant and not a colonization preparation facility? Mulder had to be sure for what he was about to do. He had no idea who had sent him the paper with this building's location on it. And how had the mystery person found him in the first place? He, along with Scully, had been in hiding ever since his "trial" ten years ago. They had been very careful about covering their tracks – moving frequently, limiting contact with other people, using fake names. It was hard to believe that somebody had found them. But it was true. The paper with the coordinates on it was found taped onto Mulder and Scully's hotel room door one morning with no explanation.

Mulder didn't take the note's information too seriously at first. Another lesson learned on the X-files was to trust no one. But time was running out. The date of the final alien invasion was December 22, 2012 – a few months away. And information regarding the alien's colonization plans was nonexistent. Had Mulder still been in the FBI, things might be different. But the X-files had been permanently closed after the trial, so even that wasn't certain.

So in the end, he had no choice but to go out on a limb and trust a stranger.

Sighing, Mulder reached into his other pocket and withdrew a small metal box with a series of buttons and switches on the front. Without another thought, he flipped one of the switches.

Instantly, the 25 pounds of C4 in the van exploded. A massive wall of flame took out the façade of the building. Billowing pillars of fire, fueled by the several gallons' worth of gasoline stored in the van, consumed the entire complex.

Mulder turned his back to the smoldering ruins and fled. He ran as fast as his legs could carry him. Through a thick forest, across a shallow creek, he eventually came to a four-lane highway. And there, parked in a ditch at the edge of the woods, was the getaway vehicle, a 2009 black Ford. He got into the car and took off down the highway, careful to observe the speed limit. Being stopped by a highway patrolman wouldn't be a good thing, not with reports of the burning "computer plant" coming in over police radio. Better safe than sorry. That wasn't a lesson learned in the X-files. It was just common sense.

The going was slow, but eventually the "Budget Motel" with its pink stone walls came into view and Mulder parked the Ford in the weed-choked parking lot. He got out and made his way to room 1-8. He looked around to make sure nobody was watching him before he knocked. When he felt the coast was clear, he entered the dingy motel room.

The word "dingy" didn't do the room justice. Seedy? Grimy? Those were more appropriate words. The faded pink plaster walls were chipped and broken in places and the dark green carpet was stiff with dust. The only light in the room came from a naked bulb hanging from the ceiling. The lamps over the two beds didn't work. The artwork was bolted to the walls and the sole window in the room was nailed shut, which was bad since the place was poorly ventilated. Yes, the room was a disaster except for one thing. The only redeeming quality it possessed was that Dana Scully was inside.

She was sitting on the edge of the smelly bed, nibbling on some cheese and cracker. When she heard the door open, she put the food down and ran to Mulder, wrapping him in her arms. "You're back. You're back."

Mulder smiled. "I've only been gone for a few hours."

Scully said nothing. She gave him a quick kiss on the check and buried her head in his chest. Mulder stroked her red hair, guilt swimming to the surface of his emotions. Scully had been through so much thanks to him. First his abduction, then she had found out she was pregnant. Months later, he had been returned – but near death. After his recovery, Scully had given birth to their son. And as soon as that happened, Mulder was off in hiding, leaving Scully alone for a year. During that year, she faced some hard decisions and eventually she gave up William, their son, for adoption.

The guilt Mulder felt for putting her through all that was almost overwhelming sometimes. Scully never once blamed him, never even talked about it for that matter, but that made it worse.

"So it's over with?" Scully asked as she pulled away from him.

"Yeah. It's nothing but ash by now."

"So in addition to being fugitives, we're terrorists now."

There it was again. Guilt. "We're going to have to move out," Mulder said.

"I'll start packing."

Scully moved to get what little belongings they had together organized, but Mulder stopped her. He took her hand and kissed it. Her bright blue eyes locked onto his and he couldn't help but marvel at her beauty. Here he was, nearly 51 years old, with more than a couple gray hairs and a starting-to-recede-hairline. And there was Scully, who was 48 years old but didn't look a day over 35. Her skin was free of any blemishes or wrinkles, her hair was still a fiery red color and her ocean blue eyes still sparkled with a zest only the young seemed to possess.

"I've got to pack," Scully said gently.

"It can wait," Mulder replied as he linked his arms around her back. "It can wait."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Mount Weather, Virginia

2:30 am

Dona Lola strolled through the compound's many hallways and corridors until she found the room she wanted. Without knocking, she opened the 5-inch thick steel door that led from the sub-basement hallway to the meeting room. All seven members had already assembled, each looking tired and weary from being woken up at 2:30 in the morning.

As soon as Dona Lola closed the door behind her, a twitchy man with jet-black hair started in about the recent development. "Have you heard? Have you gotten the news yet? One of our hybrid centers was bombed fifteen minutes ago!" Twitchy Man's voice rose with anxiety. "This could set us back years! We won't be ready for colonization! Just when we were so close!"

"Oh, please." Dona Lola sighed dramatically and gave Twitchy Man a look of disgust. "What have I been saying for the past six months? We've come too far for anything to knock us off schedule now. Besides, the Montana center wasn't one of our more productive facilities anyway. Furthermore, the alien/human hybrid project had been more or less abandoned, so it isn't a great loss. The Super Soldiers have taken their place for the most part."

The others didn't seem so convinced. In the back of the room, a middle-aged man with one brown eye and one blue eye spoke up. "But aren't you curious as to _who_ bombed the facility?" Without waiting for a response, the Heterochromia Man made his way to Dona Lola and produced a black and white photograph. "This image was captured by our security cameras moments before the bombing. Do you recognize that man in the picture?"

Dona Lola didn't even need to look. "Fox Mulder," she replied, glaring at the insolent subordinate. "And I would thank you not to talk to me like I'm a child."

Heterochromia Man apologized quickly. "It was just a shock for us to see him. We haven't heard anything about him for years."

"A shock? Surely, you must be joking. Fox Mulder isn't the type of man who would just fade into the background. It's obvious that ever since his escape from prison, he and Dana Scully have been plotting something big."

"You think Scully's with him?"

"Of course. Mulder more than likely built and detonated the bomb while Scully stayed behind at some cheap hotel waiting for him to return like a good little girl."

"What do you want us to do about it?" Asked Heterochromia Man.

Dona Lola licked her lips. The thought of Fox Mulder captured, in chains, being tortured and eventually killed – well, it was a very pleasant thought. He and his precious X-files had caused so many problems in the past. So many things had been put in jeopardy thanks to his incessant inquiries into "the truth". More than anything, Dona Lola wanted to have him begging for mercy in front of her. She wanted him dead, but not before he was completely broken and his spirit shattered. And the best way to do that was to have a successful colonization.

"I want road blocks put up around 30 square miles of the bombing. I want local police going checking every single hotel in the area. And when, not _if_, but when the police find them they should be brought here to face me. Understood?"

Heads nodded with agreement.

"Now then." Dona Lola took a seat and folded her hands. "How do you suppose Mulder got this information about the hybrid center?" She looked around the room. Nobody would return her gaze. They knew what she was implying. "An informant." Another pause. "Now who could this informant be?"

Twitchy Man loosened his tie and spoke with a stammering voice. "Are you s-suggesting it was … was …. one of us?"

The eyes of everyone in the room went to Dona Lola.

"No," she said. "I don't believe so. But who else could it be? Any thoughts?"

Nobody had any guesses for the longest time until Twitchy Man spoke. "Would Agents Doggett and Reyes know anything? I mean, maybe- "

Dona Lola cut him off with a sneering laugh. "That theory is absurd for several reasons. First of all, during their time on the X-files, Doggett and Reyes never really understood what we were doing. They might have caught glimpses, but they were pretty much in the dark about the Project. Secondly, do you really think that Mulder and Scully would have kept in touch with them? They would've known that would be the first place we'd look. So no, Doggett and Reyes are out of the picture."

The potential suspects rose to the top of Dona Lola's mind as she tried to discover the true culprit. FBI Assistant Director Skinner had been close to Mulder and Scully, and had seen his fair share of unexplained phenomena. And he had been in a position to gather information, but he was dead. Died of a heart attack last spring. And then there was Deputy Director Kersh. He knew a little about the Project. He didn't believe in aliens, but evidence indicated he was aware of a conspiracy within the government. So could he have given Mulder the information? No. Kersh was so well monitored by the Neo Syndicate that he couldn't break wind without it being reported back to either Dona Lola or somebody else high up. So who else could it be?

Then it came to her.

"Marita Covarrubias," Dona Lola said at last. "It has to be her. I want her brought to me for questioning within the next few hours."

Yes. It was so obvious now. Marita had been a part of the old Syndicate and had provided then-Agent Mulder with inside information several times in the past. And she had spilled her guts out during Mulder's murder trial when she was called as a witness. Marita Covarrubias. She should have been executed years ago.

"What's her location?" Dona Lola asked.

"Annapolis, Maryland," someone in the back said.

Dona Lola had gotten up from her seat to exit the room when somebody spoke up.

"Why Marita? She hasn't been involved with the Project for some time now."

The question had come from the youngest member of the seven, a young man in his early twenties with short, light brown hair. His jaw was set and it was clear he didn't agree with the leader's accusation.

"Do you have a problem with my authority?" Dona Lola asked sweetly. "I would certainly hope not. By the looks of things, I've been a part of the Project since before you were in kindergarten."

Young Man did not flinch at the insult.

"Ms. Covarrubias knows too much," Dona Lola continued. "We can't have her revealing secrets now. Not when we're so close." With that, she started for the door.

"I thought we had come too far for anything to be damaging to us now," Young Man said.

Dona Lola made no acknowledgement to the last comment as she exited the room. It didn't matter what anyone thought. Her word was law. Obey or suffer the consequences.

…

Annapolis, Maryland

It had been a long day at the office and it was three o'clock in the morning when Marita Covarrubias finally made it home. All she wanted to do was take a quick shower and hop into bed before the clock struck 3:15.

She had just started running the water for the shower when the phone rang. Sighing, she made her way into the bedroom to answer it. It should be a crime to call someone so early, but Marita was a very important person and as such, her personal comfort was regularly put aside to further the interests of others.

After four rings, she picked up the phone. "Yes?"

The voice on the other end was soft and raspy. "I can't talk long. This line may be tapped."

The voice was new to Marita. She had never heard it before. It sounded like it belonged to an elderly woman. "Who is this?"

"You must leave your apartment immediately," the voice ordered. "They're coming for you."

"Who? What are you talking about?"

"Just listen. They're coming for you. They plan to kill you. You must leave as soon as you can. Don't even take time to pack." A pause, and then: "Now pay close attention to the next few words I say."

Marita rubbed her head with her fingers. "They" could only mean the Syndicate. They were coming to kill her. Though why, she couldn't understand. She hadn't been a part of them for years. But the reasons didn't matter. All that mattered was the voice on the other end of the phone.

"You must go to the town of Ellston, South Dakota. Once there, find the Cloud 9 Inn. Get a room." The old woman's voice shook. It seemed she was having difficulty talking. "Do not travel by plane. They'll track you. Don't drive in your c-c-c-c-c-" The voice rattled and heaved. "-car. Take a taxi. Hitchhike. But you m-m-m-m-must g-get to El-El-Ellston!" And with that final effort of talking, the line went dead.

Marita slammed the phone down into its cradle. Without even taking time to pack or turn off the water for the shower, she fled.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

It was high noon, but the sun wasn't able to penetrate through the dark rain clouds up above. The rain was coming down hard and that, along with the fact that Mulder didn't know exactly where he was going, didn't help matters any. They had crossed the Montana state line some hours ago, still in the same Ford, but with a switched-out license plate.

The going had been tough for a while. The morning after the bombing, police swarmed over the surrounding area. Mulder had a suspicion that they knew he had been behind the operation. The police had searched every hotel, motel, and inn for "persons of interest". Thankfully, he and Scully had managed to escape in the wee hours of the morning, switch plates, and evade the cop-enforced roadblocks.

They had been lucky, in other words.

Mulder glanced from the road to Scully, who had nodded off in the passenger seat. She had been awake for close to 26 hours, so a little catnap was not out of the question. Mulder himself felt like a little sleep would be a good idea too, so he turned into the parking lot of the first hotel he came to.

Once the car was parked, Mulder reached out a gently woke Scully.

"Dana? Dana, wake up."

Scully stirred. "Hmm? Oh. How long was I asleep? I could have driven."

Mulder laughed to himself. "We both need the rest. Come on, I've driven you to yet another five-star luxury palace of relaxation."

Scully looked out the car's window. "The Cloud 9 Inn. Wow, Mulder. You know how to sweep a girl off her feet."

"Well, we _are_ on a tight budget, you know." Mulder got out of the car and entered the hotel's lobby. The Cloud 9 was a step up from the horror that had been the Budget Motel. At least the place wasn't covered in rat droppings.

The card-key to room 212 was handed over to Mulder, who had given his name as "Douglas Fredhold". With key in hand, Scully was collected from the car and together they headed up to the second floor of the building and made their way to their room.

The room was nice and clean, done in a country-western design. But Mulder and Scully weren't interested in the décor. All they cared about were the beds. As soon as their heads hit their pillows, they were both out like a light.

But Mulder's sleep, however, was far from restful.

He was no longer in the hotel room. He was in a cold place. Pain radiated from every square inch of his body. His eyes were shut. He didn't want to open them. He was afraid of what he might see. But curiosity eventually overcame everything else, and with a fair amount of trepidation, Mulder opened his eyes.

He was naked, pinned into some kind of chair carved from stone. Hooks were pulling his cheeks apart, and metal rods had skewered his wrists and ankles. The room he was in was dark, lit only by a few lights in the walls. No one else was in the room, but he had a feeling he was being watched.

And then came the screams.

They came from behind the thick walls, screams of unimaginable pain. Beneath the deafening cries, the whir of a machine could be heard. Mulder shut his eyes again. He didn't know how he knew, but the person screaming for their life in the next room was Billy Miles. It was obvious that Billy was being tortured. Mulder wanted to help, but there was nothing that could be done. He could barely move his hands. Running to someone's aide was totally out of the question.

A clicking noise sounded in front of Mulder and he opened his eyes once more. A long metal arm-like device with a buzz saw on the end had extended from the ceiling. It moved over Mulder's body and came to a stop over his chest.

The screams in the other room had stopped and been replaced with a quiet sobbing. Now it was his turn to experience what Billy had gone through. A few deep breaths and a couple of long, slow exhales, and Mulder braced himself for what was to come.

The saw started up, filling the room with that sinister whirring noise. The mechanical arm dipped lower and lower, each passing second bringing it closer to its target. And when it connected with the bare, soft flesh, it was unlike anything that Mulder had ever experienced before. He had told himself he wouldn't scream. He wasn't going to give them – the ones who were doing this to him – the satisfaction. But as the spinning blade sliced through skin and muscle, spraying everything nearby with blood, a shrill scream escaped Mulder's lips. The scream was involuntary. It was the pain. Such pain.

His cries went on and on and eventually the mindless shrieks became a word, a name, repeated over and over.

"Scully!!"

He had no idea he was shouting for his partner. Everything was a blur. There was nothing but the white-hot, all-consuming pain. But he continued to shout for her – the one person he trusted. Scully. Over and over.

…

Mulder awoke with a start. He was back in the hotel room. It had just been a nightmare. No. Not a nightmare, but memories of his abduction years ago. His abduction from Oregon, the torturous experiments onboard the spacecraft, and his eventual return. These thoughts came flooding back to him. He was returned in a state which mirrored death, and as such, he was buried alive. Three months later, Billy Miles, the man who had been abducted with Mulder had been found floating in the ocean off from North Carolina. Billy was also thought to be dead, but later revived. With this new knowledge, Mulder's coffin had been dug up and it was discovered that he too was alive.

Billy, while in the hospital, was transformed. Transformed into what was now

known to be a Super Solider. The same fate awaited Mulder, but through sheer luck, his own fortune was altered and he able to escape becoming what Billy Miles was.

It was ironic. After his sister's abduction from their home when he was just a boy, Mulder longed to be taken himself one day. And when that day came, the actual experience turned out to be very different than what he imagined. It was the most terrifying ordeal of his life. And he still dreamt about it often.

Shaking his head to bring himself fully awake, Mulder looked around the room. It was dark. The curtains had been drawn and the TV was on. Scully had seated herself at the foot of the other bed, attention focused on the television. The small digital clock on the nightstand read 11:10 pm. He had been asleep for nearly 12 hours.

"I feel …. like crap."

"Oh, you're finally awake." Scully muted the TV. "Mulder, you look terrible. Did you have a bad dream?"

Not wanting to trouble her, he shook his head. "I'm fine. What are you watching?"

It was the evening news and the main story was the bombing. No suspects had yet been officially named, but according to the news report, the police had a list of people whom they wanted to question.

The two of them watched in silence. Neither one spoke to the other, but they were thinking the exact same thing. The bombing had only been a pinprick. The date was coming fast. December 22nd, 2012 was the date planned for the end of the world. Mulder and Scully knew this and were doing their best to fight it, but what could they do? Bomb a few more buildings? Strom the nearest government compound? Whatever they did, it wouldn't be enough. They were thrashing around blind in a sealed room, hoping to kick the door open, but that door was shut and would remain that way. The machine had been set in motion and there was no way to turn it off.

"I'm going to the lobby," Mulder said at last. "Buy a map."

The trip to the lobby didn't take long at all. The new receptionist at the front desk was talking to a woman who was asking for a room and didn't see Mulder. That was fine with him. He made his way over to the stack of maps pilled up at the end of the desk when he froze. Something was strange. Something was off. What could it be? The lobby looked the same as it did when he first arrived. What was it?

The woman?

Yes. The woman talking to the receptionist. Her voice sounded familiar.

Mulder stood transfixed as he watched the woman receive her room key. She turned to go up the stairs behind her and saw him watching her. Mulder quickly glanced down at the floor. Did he know that woman? Had she followed him here to this hotel?

Mulder looked up. The woman had not moved. Her eyes were still trained on him. Where did he know her from? It was driving him crazy. Whoever it was, she was dressed smart. She wore a navy dress suit and her long, blonde hair was bulled back into a bun.

That's when it hit him like a ton of bricks.

"Marita?"

As soon as he whispered the name, the woman's mouth dropped open. She looked around her and ushered Mulder behind the magazine rack. "Agent Mulder? What are you doing here?!"

This was too much. The last time he had seen Marita was at his trial, ten years ago. Seeing her here, in a cheap hotel in the middle of nowhere was just too much of a coincidence. Something was up. But at the same time, it was good to see a familiar face. Marita had been an ally in the war against the Syndicate.

"What are _you_ doing here?" Mulder questioned.

Marita shook her head, bewildered. "I received a call." She stopped and looked about once more. "Do you have a room? Can we talk there?"

Mulder nodded and led her upstairs. Once at the doorstep of his room, he knocked and the door was opened by Scully. Her eyes went from Mulder to Marita. "Mulder, what's going on? Is this-"

" Marita Covarrubias. She's a friend."

The two of them stepped out from the hallway and into the room. Scully latched it shut behind them. "What is this? What's going on?"

"That's what I'd like to know," Mulder said.

Marita frowned. "I had no idea you would be here. This is a shock." She swallowed. "As I said before, I received a phone call early yesterday morning. The caller told me my life was in danger and that I must come here. To this hotel."

"Who told you?" Scully asked. "Why this hotel?"

"I don't know."

Mulder sighed and flopped onto the bed. What was going on? A mysterious phone call? A life in danger? Someone was going on behind the scenes. Just then, a thought occurred to him. Marita's mystery caller might very well be the same person that provided him with the location of the alien colonization center. "This person who called you, what did they sound like?"

"I didn't recognize the voice, but it sounded like an elderly woman."

An elderly woman? That was news. Mulder had always assumed the person who had given him the location information was part of the Syndicate. The same could be said for Marita's caller. Most of Mulder's informants in the past had been involved in the government/alien conspiracy somehow. Deep Throat had been an ex-CIA operative with firsthand knowledge of alien life on Earth. X was a high-ranking member of the Men In Black, a governmental task force whose sole purpose was to cover up proof of alien life. And Marita herself had been under direct orders from the actual Syndicate. So it was logical to assume that this mystery woman also had ties to the conspiracy.

"Why would your life be in danger?" Scully asked.

"I can't say for certain. My ties with the conspiracy were severed after the death of the Smoking Man. I have no idea why they would want me killed now."

Mulder stroked his chin. It was coarse from days-old stubble. "Maybe they thought you were the one who had provided us information about the Montana complex."

Marita shook her head. "But they should have known I couldn't have. I couldn't risk…" She stopped abruptly in mid-sentence. Her eyes went to the floor. "Well, you understand."

"I don't think they really cared if you were the actual informant," Mulder said. "The bombing was just an excuse to put you out of the picture. They're cleaning house. Making sure things are nice and neat before the end."

Those last words cast a somber mood over the three of them. For the next few minutes, they chatted some more, trying to make sense out of things. When it became evident that no new information was going to be unearthed, Marita left, but not before giving out her room number to both Mulder and Scully.

The question that bugged Mulder the most was how did Marita end up at the Cloud 9? It had to be more than a coincidence. Her mystery caller – the old woman – had instructed her to come. Had it been her plan that she meet up with Mulder and Scully? No. It couldn't be. Mulder himself, after leaving Montana, only had the destination of Ellston in mind. He had no idea that he would be staying at the Cloud 9 Inn. It just happened to be the first hotel they came to.

Another unanswered question.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Falls Church, Virginia

Two Days Later

It was Monday morning and John Doggett did not want to go into work. It wasn't just the typical Monday morning blues, either. John used to love his job at the FBI. Solving unsolvable mysteries, organizing manhunts, catching bad guys. It had been a joy to go to work everyday. Had been. It had been a joy before he realized the FBI was plagued with people more interested in covering up lies than exposing the truth. Before people like Deputy Director Kersh began to use John in their own personal power games. At one time, John Doggett had been the favorite to one day act as Assistant Director, but that day would never come. Thanks to his associations with Mulder, Scully, and the X-Files, he was doomed never to get an advancement as long as he served in the FBI.

As Agent Doggett dressed for work in front of the bedroom mirror, he shook his head sadly. They wanted him out of the FBI. Even with the X-Files closed for good, they wanted him out. Well, that was too bad for them. John had no intention of caving in to the powers-that-be. He had a job to do, however unpleasant, and he had every intention of doing it.

Still in a minor huff, John lumbered down the stairs and into the kitchen. His breakfast had already been prepared for him and was positioned at his place at the table. It was a big brown glob of something. John bent at the waist to sniff it and turned away in disgust. Another one of those nauseating live-forever health concoctions.

"I see you turning your nose up at the breakfast I made for you," Monica said as she emerged from the living room area.

"For cryin' out loud, Monica," John took another sniff and had to use sheer willpower to keep from vomiting. "What is this stuff?"

"Well, it's a blend of ground liver, beans, egg yolk, and-"

The urge to gag rose again. "Alright, alright. I get the picture."

Monica smiled and retrieved a fork from a nearby drawer. "Scientists have proven a diet rich in protein reduces risks of late-life diseases. The same was shown for such foods grown in nature, like the chopped-up carrot bits that are also in here. I theorized that a meal in which both foods were combined would no doubt dramatically lower the risks for developing degenerative illness."

And, horror of horrors, she plunged the fork into the brown blob and took a bite. "It tastes pretty good, too."

John rolled his eyes and took a deep breath. Monica was into another one of her health-food kicks. She developed these once every few months or so. She would announce that all synthetic foods were going into the trash and from there on out, nothing would be consumed but pure 100 organic sustenance. During these health crazes, she would also swear off cigarettes, only to be driven mad by nicotine fits in the middle of the night. Needless to say, these cycles never lasted all that long.

Sure, Monica was a bit loopy from time to time, but John loved her just the same. And with eight years of marriage under both their belts, they had learned to appreciate each other's odd little idiosyncrasies.

As John watched Monica spread open the morning paper before her, he couldn't help but reflect on his life. He had known Monica for ages. They had first met while they were investigating the disappearance, and eventual murder, of John's son, Luke. Years passed, and John and Monica had been assigned to the X-Files together. During this time, he began to have feelings for her. He never let himself admit them, though. He had gone through a rather bitter divorce and had lost his only child to a killer. He wasn't ready to start up a relationship. Romance had no place in such a life.

But then, one night, Monica had gotten into a serious car accident. She was pronounced brain dead upon arrival at the hospital. It was then that John wished he had told her how he felt. He would have given anything just to have one more moment with her so that he could tell her his true feelings. These thoughts surprised him. He wasn't an overly sentimental person, but he couldn't deny what he felt.

Monica later regained brain activity and made a full recovery. John saw this as his opportunity to share with her his feelings, but when the time came, he chickened out. Their relationship remained "just friends" until Mulder's trial. After Mulder had been sentenced to death, he and Scully fled into parts unknown, leaving John and Monica all alone. With the X-Files shut down and Mulder and Scully gone, John knew he had to come out with it.

So, he told Monica that he cared for her, and the two started to date. Almost immediately, John knew that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, but it took him two long years to build up the courage to pop the question. He had been awkward, but Monica had said yes through teary eyes, and the rest was history.

"Well, this is ominous."

John turned to Monica, who was fully engaged in the newspaper. "What's that?"

"My horoscope. Listen to this: 'Troubled times and difficult choices await you. Remember there is light at the end of the tunnel'." She frowned. "What do you suppose it means?"

"It doesn't mean anything. It's just something someone made up down at the newspaper office made up."

"I don't know about that. I admit that horoscopes are hit-or-miss, but that stems from the fact that the zodiac dates that were used centuries ago don't match up-"

John gave her a look.

"Sorry." Monica folded the paper down the center and threw it in the trash. "Oh, that reminds me. I'm going to have to head in to work a little early today. I've got a full work load and I want to finish it as soon as I can."

"I can drive you."

"That's okay. I don't want you to be rushed. I'll just drive myself. Maybe we can have lunch together?"

John nodded and watched as Monica moved toward the front door. Panic washed over him. Was he supposed to kiss her goodbye? The front door was a long way from the kitchen. Was he supposed to walk to her? What if she left before he got there? That would be humiliating. And did this situation even warrant a kiss? They would see each other later on in the day… Questions like these John agonized through every day.

As it turned out, Monica was in such a rush that she almost plowed through the front door, so the "kiss issue" was null and void.

Sighing to himself, John threw his brown goo breakfast in the trash and hunted in the fridge for some leftovers.

A knock sounded at the door. It was probably Monica. She must've locked the door behind her and forgot something in the house. Well, he was going to kiss her goodbye this time. He wouldn't chicken out.

But it wasn't Monica at the door. It was a man wearing a black police uniform and a sour look on his face. "John Doggett?"

John's brow wrinkled. "Yeah?"

"I'm Officer Tedbaum with the Fairfax County police department. May I have a word with you?" Without waiting for an answer, Officer Tedbaum began to push himself into the house.

"Hold it, hold it!" John braced himself in the doorframe. "What's this about?"

"There's been a situation, sir,' said the Officer. "I need to speak with you inside." And with that, he began to push his way inside again.

"Look, buddy, you're not getting inside 'till I see some identification."

The two men stared at each other, neither one making a move. Then, with lightning speed, Officer Tedbaum pushed John square in the chest, causing him to go crashing backwards. He pounced on him and slammed his head onto the hard wood floor.

John managed to work one arm free and brought it crashing down over the police officer's neck. With the intruder momentarily stunned, John broke out from under him. The adrenalin was coursing through his veins. He felt he could take on this Tedbaum barehanded, but he knew that wasn't a wise decision. His gun was lying on a table in the living room and John took off in that direction.

Tedbaum's hand shot out and grabbed John's ankle, tripping him.

A full-minute brawl between the two men ensued. Punches and kicks were flying everywhere. Each man was equally matched for strength. It was a draw as to who would win.

But Agent Doggett didn't see the other man enter the room. He didn't see him as he withdrew a syringe from his pocket.

But he did feel the needle as it slid into his skin.

Officer Tedbaum took to his feet and wiped off his fake police uniform. John tried to take one last swing at the man, but his arms wouldn't rise up off the floor. His vision was blurry. There was a funny taste at the back of his throat.

The last thing he saw were the two men hunched over him, each smiling demonically.

…

FBI Headquarters

1:00 pm

Monica glanced at her watch as she exited off the elevator. Lunch time. She smiled. Was John in for a treat today! By pure chance, she had discovered an all-natural veggie restaurant not two blocks away from work. She couldn't wait to see John's face when she told him about it. Of course he would protest and whine, put Monica would simply remind him that healthy food can be tasty food, too!

But when she came to his desk, he wasn't at it. And the desktop itself was clear of any paper or files. And the chair wasn't pushed out like it would be if he had just gone for a bathroom break or something.

Monica shivered. A tingling sensation crept through her body. Bad vibrations.

She turned to the man at the desk next to John's. "Has Agent Doggett gone for a break?"

The other man frowned and shook her head. "Agent Doggett didn't come in to work today."

The tingling sensations grew more intense. It was probably nothing. He must've stayed home with a cold. Or maybe he had gotten so involved trying to fix the broken dishwasher that he lost track of time. These explanations were plausible, but Monica knew they weren't right. Something else was going on.

She picked up the phone on John's desk and called home. It rang six times and then the answering machine got it.

The vibrations were overwhelming by now. Monica slammed the phone down in its cradle and headed for the parking garage. Once in her car, she tore out onto the streets of Washington, barely obeying the speed limit. She arrived back in Falls Church a few minutes later and pulled up into her driveway.

From the outside, the house looked fine. The front door was shut. John's car was parked at the curb like always. Maybe he had gotten sick after all. But Monica still wasn't certain. She had to know.

The front door wasn't locked, which was odd because John always locked it regardless of whether he was inside or off at work. And then when the door was opened, she found the wooden floor scuffed with black shoe marks and a small table in the foyer overturned.

That was it. Something had gone wrong. Someone had broken in while she was away at work. Monica ran to the nearest phone and dialed 911 with shaking hands.

"911. What is-"

"There's been a kidnapping!" Cried Monica. Her vision strayed back to the scuffed floor and the overturned table. "Come quick! Come quick! Hurry!"


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Ellston, South Dakota

Once again, Mulder, Scully, and Marita found themselves crammed together in room 212 for one of their daily morning meetings. The mood was not pleasant. Days had passed with no information. The three of them dared not set foot out of the hotel for fear the wrong somebody would see them. Better safe than sorry, but the cabin fever was being to show on everybody.

"I don't know about you," Mulder said. "But a few more days held up in this room and I'm going to start taking hostages."

Scully sighed and took a quick peak behind the closed curtains. "Did this female caller of yours happen to mention how long we had to stay here, Ms. Covarrubias?"

Marita caught the sarcastic tone in her voice and narrowed her eyes. "You don't have to stay. I was the one who was instructed to come here. You can leave whenever you want."

"Fine. Wonderful," Scully said. "Mulder, start packing."

Mulder moved in between Marita and Scully and held out his hands. "Ladies, ladies. As much as I enjoy a good catfight, now is not the time. I think we can assume Marita was sent to this location to meet up with us."

"So what, are we supposed to just stay here for the rest of our lives?" Scully asked.

"No. You're right. We should get out of here as soon as possible." Mulder brushed past Marita and started to pile his and Scully's meager belongings into a large brown paper sack. "They longer we stay here, the more likely it is that the people who want us dead will find us."

With Mulder's approval of her idea, Scully also started to race around the room, searching for anything of theirs that he had forgotten to pack up. While this was going on, Marita stood at the door with a frown on her face. "What if the woman who called me wants to get in touch? She'd call here. If we leave, she won't have any way to reach me."

Mulder reached behind her and opened the door. With the paper sack slung over his shoulder, he shrugged and headed outside.

"I just don't think this is the right course of action to take," Marita said.

Scully flipped off the lights in the room. With a smile on her face, she said, "Well, as you said before, _you_ were the one instructed to stay." And off she went down the hall to the lobby.

It wasn't like Marita had a choice. The Syndicate was very resourceful and if they wanted you dead, you died. But still, it was a good idea to keep moving. Staying in one place for so long was risky. _They_ had operatives around the world, waiting to attack and kill if given the order. But if anyone could escape their wrath, it was Mulder and Scully. Marita sighed. Here she was, already starting to feel cramped and paranoid after only a few days on the run, while those two had been living in the shadows for years. She couldn't image what that must've been like. And truly, if it was a choice between being murdered at the hands of the Syndicate or living the rest of her life in fear… Well, she didn't know what she'd choose.

But the future wasn't certain and Mulder did have a point. If they stayed, they would be sitting ducks. It was better to move on.

Marita accompanied Mulder and Scully to the lobby and paid the room fee with cash. She had brought with her no luggage and was still wearing the same clothes she had worn days ago. At least the hotel room had a shower. But there was no telling when that luxury would be available again.

After the rooms were paid off, the three of them headed out into the parking lot. Mulder's beat up Ford was still there, waiting to be put to the road again. Without a word to either Scully or Marita, Mulder pulled out the keys from his pant's pocket and hit the trunk button. He reached inside and pulled out a dozen different license plates. He turned to Marita and held the plates in both hands with their backs facing her, as if they were playing cards. "Pick a state. Any state."

Marita cast a glance at Scully, who only shrugged. It was scary to think her life was in this man's hands. But with a sigh and some rolling of the eyes, she picked the plate to the farthest left.

"Ah," Mulder said as he turned the plate around to show everyone. "Kentucky. The Bluegrass State. Good choice."

The next few seconds were spent taking off the old license plate and replacing it with the new Kentucky one. Once that was finished with, Mulder hopped in the driver's side and Sully pushed the passenger seat up so Marita could scoot into the back. After everyone was positioned, Mulder cranked up the engine.

"Atomic batteries to power, turbines to speed! Here we go!"

And off they clunked.

"Where are we going?" Marita asked. "Do we even have a destination in mind?"

"Not at all, my dear," Mulder said. "We're just going wherever the wind takes us."

"Well. That's comforting."

…

Mount Weather, Virginia

The first thing John was aware of was that he had a headache. Not just any headache, but a mind-ripping migraine. And then he remembered the fight that had taken place between him and a policeman. Only he hadn't really been a policeman. And… He tried to think back, but the sledgehammer pressure on his brain wouldn't let him think. But he had to. He had to know where he was.

Slowly and with great difficulty, John opened his eyes. His vision was a bit blurry, but he could make out the room he was in. Dimly lit, small, and with no furniture. He was sitting on the floor, up against a column. And he wasn't alone. There was another person in the room. A woman.

"You're finally awake," the woman said.

John tried to move his hands, but couldn't. He had been handcuffed to the column behind him. "Where am I? Who are you?" He tried to put some heat behind his words, but they came out slurred and weak.

"You're at the Mount Weather federal government facility." The woman bent down on her hind legs and smiled apologetically at John. "I'm terribly sorry about the way in which this has transpired. It was never my intention to cause you any discomfort. However, this is a very delicate situation and-"

"Would you mind telling me why you kidnapped me from my home?!" John bellowed. He was starting to feel more like himself. Whatever knockout juice they had given him was wearing off. "And why am I in handcuffs?!"

The woman smiled and nodded. "Certainly. I realize this must be a shock for you. And I assure you, the handcuffs are only a precautionary measure." She paused and smiled kindly. "But before I explain, let me introduce myself. My name is Dona Lola."

John's mouth drew downward. He didn't like this woman's sweet little innocent act. 'Pardon me, but I can't shake hands," he said sarcastically.

Dona Lola laughed a little too loud and a little too long. Fake. "Again, I apologize for the handcuffs. Now, I'd like to ask you a few questions. During your time on the X-Files, you came into contact with Dana Scully and Fox Mulder, did you not?"

John said nothing.

"Mr. Doggett, you can make this process go faster if you just answer my questions." Dona Lola said. "You knew them didn't you?"

Oh, well. No harm in stating the obvious. "Yeah," John said. "I knew 'em."

"And you testified at his murder trial in 2002, correct?"

"Yeah."

"And afterward, he and Ms. Scully went on the run. Now what we need from you is their location."

Ah. So that was it. They were after Scully and Mulder. Well, John wouldn't give them any information. He couldn't even if he wanted to. He hadn't seen them since the trial, ten years ago.

"Mr. Doggett?" Dona Lola leaned in close. So close, John could smell her rose-scented perfume. "You kept in touch with them, didn't you?"

Silence.

Dona Lola's smile faltered. "Mr. Doggett, you kept in touch with them, _didn't_ you?"

The repeated questions were starting to get on John's nerves. "Look, lady. You can ask me the same question a million times, but you aren't going to get a different answer form me. No. I haven't seen them in ten years."

This wasn't quite the answer Dona Lola wanted. She jumped up to full height, her face a mask of fury. "Liar!" Her left eye began to twitch. "You're lying to me! Now tell me the truth!! Did Mulder and Scully-"

"I've already told you! No!"

A scream frustration bellowed forth from Dona Lola's lips. She pulled her hair and paced around the room. It wasn't clear, but she appeared to be talking to herself. After a few seconds of muttering and swearing, she made her way back to John. "I know you know where they are. And it's fine that you don't tell me. We'll just see if a little sodium thiopental changes your mind."

She turned to leave, but at the last second returned to John. "I'll see you later." And with that, she gave John a swift kick in between the legs.

His vision exploded into an array of stars. He gritted his teeth together to keep from yelling aloud. Off in the distance, the clacking of high heels on linoleum could be heard. Then the door to the interrogation room opened and slammed shut. John let out a shaky breath. His entire lower stomach throbbed and he felt sick on his stomach.

"So it's true? You've captured him?"

A voice from outside the room. Sounded like a man. John quieted his breathing so he could listen in.

"Yes, it's true." Dona Lola.

"Why? He doesn't know anything about Mulder or Scully. You said so yourself!"

"We're checking out all possible leads! And don't take that tone with me or you'll find yourself with a bullet in between the eyes!"

"Do you think he informed Marita, too? How? Answer _that_."

Dona Lola's voice grew low and hateful. "I have an idea. Why don't you just go back to your quarters and play with your little Tamogotchis and Hotwheels and leave the world security to me, okay?"

John couldn't help but smile bitterly at that last remark. World security? Ha. He didn't know all the facts, but if one thing was certain, it was that Dona Lola did not have the planet's best interest at heart.

John closed his eyes. He better get some sleep before they came to question him again. But no sooner had his eyes shut, when the door opened.

His eyes sprang open. He was ready to kick and fight this time. But instead of Dona Lola, a young man in an oversized suit stood before him. The man, who looked more like a boy, ran a hand through his short brown hair. "Oh, no," he said, his voice full of sympathy. "This can't be."

"Let me guess," John spat. "You must be the good cop."

The young man didn't say anything, but instead walked over to John and put a hand on his shoulder. "Did they hurt you?" He asked at last.

John shook his head. He knew this trick. This guy was going to fret all over him and win his trust and try and form a bond. It was an old trick. The oldest in the book. John himself had used it more than once when he was a cop. But it wasn't going to work on him. "Just drop the act, okay kid? I wasn't born yesterday."

A hurt looked crossed over Young Man's face. "I guess you don't remember me."

"Remember you? I've never seen you before in my life."

Young Man glanced around nervously. When he was sure nobody else was present, he bent down to John's level. "Gibson Praise."

At first, John didn't think he heard correctly. Gibson Praise had been a boy he had helped while assigned to the X-Files. Supposedly, he could read minds. After Scully had delivered her baby, Mulder went into hiding with Gibson in the desert. The last time anyone had seen the kid was during Mulder's infamous trial. John didn't want to believe that this 20-something guy in front of him was the boy he once knew, but as he looked closer, he couldn't deny it. Gibson was taller now and sported an unimpressive beard that was still mainly peach fuzz, but it was him.

"Gibson? I can't believe it! What are you doing here?" John's voice rose in excitement and as a result, he started to cough. The side effects of the kick were still being felt.

"Keep it down!" Gibson ordered. "I was able to infiltrate the Syndicate."

"How?"

"My powers." Gibson helped John get into a more comfortable sitting position. "I know you don't believe me. You never believed in my powers. But it's true. I can read minds. And recently, my powers have … evolved into mind _control_. That was how I managed to convince everyone I was a part of this."

No. It was just too wacko to believe. John shook his head. But how else could he explain Gibson's sudden appearance?

"You can't," Gibson said flatly. "It's all true, okay? I had to do something. I couldn't just sit back and let the world go up in flames. I guess you could say I'm trying to destroy the conspiracy from the inside."

John still didn't quite believe everything he was hearing, but he didn't care. The fact was, he had a friend on the inside. Just a few moments ago, he was thinking he would die in this place. But now with Gibson here, things were starting to look up. Even so, there was one thing John was still worried about.

"Monica," he said, his voice cracking. "They'll be after her next. You've got to warn her! Promise me! Promise me, Gibson, okay?"

"Alright, alright. Relax, okay? I've been walking on some thin ice with lately with Dona Lola and everyone, so it might not be so easy, but I'll do my best."

John nodded his thanks and drifted off to an uneasy sleep.

He dreamt about Monica. Nightmares.

…

Gibson hurried back to his room after talking with John. He had to try and contact Monica. After locking his bedroom door, he sat on the edge of his Queen-sized bed and shut his eyes. He let his mind expand. Monica. Monica. He pictured her in his mind the way she looked the last time he saw her. Shoulder length highlighted brown hair. Dark eyes. Her voice, the way she walked: These things ran through Gibson's mind as it raced across the country in astral form, trying to locate one person out of millions.

There. Found her.

Washington D.C. She was talking to a policeman. She had been crying.

Ever so gently, Gibson folded the layers of her mind back and took a peek inside.

_Where is he what could have happened to him John is he dead no he's just missing it's okay just clam down have a piece of gum no I don't want the stupid gum I WANT A CIGARETTE!!! JOHN, WHERE ARE YOU?!?!?!?!??!?!_

Gibson pulled away. Her mind was a mess. She was so upset and worried, she could barely think straight. All the more reason to contact her and tell her John was okay. For the time being.

His mind control powers were still relatively new. He had been able to cloud the minds of everyone in Mount Weather without any great difficulty, but a long-distance possession was another matter. When he had possessed the old housewife in Maryland to warn Martia of her impending assassination, he was barely able to maintain control toward the end. It would've been a lot easier if he could just pick up the phone, but he couldn't. No outgoing calls were allowed and besides, the phones were all tapped.

Gibson closed his eyes once more and pictured the policeman closest to Monica. He was just about to take control when he was interrupted by a knock at the door.

That was odd. He shouldn't have been surprised by that. He could sense the presence of others miles away. Who was on the other side of the door that was immune to his mind reading?

His questions were answered when the door opened and Dona Lola stepped inside, the master keycard in her hand. "Locking our doors, are we? That looks rather suspicious."

_Go. Get out. You didn't see anything. _Gibson fired the orders through his mind.

Dona Lola laughed and shut the door behind her. "Your powers are useless now that I'm aware of them," she said as she tapped her temple with her index finger. "You might have been able to fool me into thinking you were a member of the Project, but I know better now. I can resist you. Isn't that right, Mr. Praise?"

Gibson's mouth opened in horror. He had been found out! But how? He had her completely fooled before! What had gone wrong?

"You know, Gibson, for a mind-reading and controlling wunderkind, you really are quite stupid. Haven't you heard of a little thing called surveillance cameras? We have them here, and they caught every word of your little conversation with dear Agent Doggett."

So that was it. He had been foolish. Stupid. Just like Dona Lola had said. And now he was going to pay the price.

"And don't even think about trying to brainwash me again, indecently," she continued. "You may have had limited success in the past, but I'm far stronger than you. Why, you could have used your powers to order me to shut the Project down myself, but you didn't. You couldn't. I'm too strong."

Gibson tried to read her mind, but couldn't. It was a formless mass of swirling darkness. But that was impossible! Who was this woman?

"What are you going to do to me?" He asked, licking his lips.

Dona Lola patted him on the back. "Oh, don't worry. I've got big plans in store for you."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

2:15 pm

The South Dakota / Iowa Border

Scully and Marita crammed themselves into a small booth at the back of dining room. They had been on the road for hours and had driven until they were about to cave in from hunger. After a long while, Scully was able to persuade Mulder to stop at the first fast food place they came to.

"Okay, I'm back," Mulder called out as he approached the booth carrying a plastic tray with everyone's meals. "Who had the Big Mac, again?"

Marita raised a hand and the burger was passed to her. This was a humbling experience for her. In all her years, she had never set foot into a place like this. While working for the United Nations, she had dined at world famous 5-star restaurants, and sat next to world leaders and had her pick of the most expensive wines on the menu. A Big Mac with the works was not her idea of fine dining. But she was hungry and had been living on chips and pretzels for the last few days, so real food of any kind was a welcome relief.

They ate in silence. Mulder and Scully shared a medium order of fries while Marita sipped her Diet Pepsi. About halfway through their meal, they were approached by a man wearing overalls and a straw hat.

Nobody made any eye contact with the man, but he just stood there for the longest time – staring. Finally, he spoke up. "Mulder. Ms. Scully. Ms. Covarrubias. May I sit down?"

That got their attention. The three at the table exchanged worried looks with one another. They had been found out! After all this time, to be discovered in an old McDonald's in the middle of nowhere!

"I can assure you, I'm a friend." The man said. He slid into the booth next to Marita. "I was the one who contacted you," he said to her. "I know I don't look it, but it's me. Gibson Praise."

Marita shot Mulder a concerned look. Mulder didn't quite seem to know what to think either.

"I know it looks odd," the man explained. "But it's true. My powers have grown to mind control as well as reading. I'm possessing this man's body so that I can give you a message." He paused and observed faces. They weren't believing it. "Alright, I'll prove it. Mulder, Scully, you first met me after a failed assassination attempt on my life. You had me tested for my psychic ability and I passes with flaying colors." He went on from there, talking about his junk DNA that provided him his powers, and other things that only Gibson Praise would know.

"Where you the one that provided us with the location of the Montana facility?" Scully asked.

The man nodded. "I possessed the maid to tape the note on your door." He smiled. "I'm glad to help you, and that's what I've come to tell you. You should go to Washington. I'll meet up with you there and we can discuss future plans to bring the Neo Syndicate to its knees."

"Washington," Mulder repeated. "Got it."

The man Gibson was controlling got up and headed for the exit.

"Wait!" Mulder called out. "Be careful, okay? You're working alongside some dangerous people. There's no telling what they would do to you if they found you out."

Nodding, the man left the restaurant.

Scully, Mulder and Marita gathered up all their food and tossed it into the garbage. They now had a destination. A purpose. Get to Washington.

…

John was awaked by the pinch of a needle slipping into his skin. He opened his eyes to see two men dressed in military gear on either side of him and Dona Lola in front, with a smile on her face. "Maybe now you'll tell us the truth," She said. "You've just been injected with a little 'Truth Serum Cocktail'. If you have any secrets you want to share with us, now is the time to do it."

The two men grabbed John's arms and hauled him roughly to his feet. He wanted to tell them to get their stinking hands off him, but he couldn't talk. His mind was swirling. His throat was dry. The room was spinning.

"Let's start with an easy question," Dona Lola suggested. "When did you last see Mulder and Scully?"

John's mouth opened involuntarily. "After the. Mulder's trial. Desert."

"And have you kept in contact? You have, correct?"

"No. Haven't seen. Ten years." His voice was extremely soft and choppy. The serum had taken effect, but he didn't have the answer that was desired.

One of the military men punched John hard in the stomach.

His legs went out from under him and he hit the floor hard. Dona Lola looked down upon him with no sympathy. She asked him the question again and again he said he hadn't had any contact with either Mulder or Scully since the trial.

"What should we do with him?" the man holding onto the prisoner's arm asked. "I don't think he knows anything. Should we dispose of him?"

Dona Lola shook her head. "No, don't do that. Let's just go ahead with Plan B."

The guards nodded in agreement and picked John up off the ground. The one on the right snatched John's necktie and tore it from around his neck. The other grabbed the front of his button-down dress shirt, ripped it open and threw it to the ground.

"You brought this on yourself you know," Dona Lola said sadly as she watched the guards strip off John's undershirt. "You should have been more cooperative."

The shoes he was wearing were the next things to go. Then the socks were pulled off his feet. The floor of the interrogation room was cold.

"But we have plans for you, yes we do."

One of the guards clasped his hand around John's belt and gave it a sharp tug, pulling it free of the belt loops, while the other took hold of the waistband of his pants and jerked down, bringing them around his ankles. With a hearty laugh, they pushed John down to the floor and ripped off his pants and threw them across the room.

They brought him back up to a standing position, each guard on one side. John, clad only in a pair of white boxers, lifted his head to the ceiling. Gasping for air, he opened his mouth. "I do have … something to say."

Dona Lola leaned in.

"Go to Hell, lady."

Dona Lola heaved off and smacked him across the face. The guard on the left bent one of John's arms up tight against the small of his back and pressed hard. The other one grabbed a handful of John's boxers and yanked. The underwear ripped in two and John was thrown back to the floor, completely naked.

"You think you're awfully clever, don't you, Agent Doggett?" Dona Lola mocked from above. She bent down and slapped him once more. "But I have news for you. You aren't."

Dona Lola snapped her fingers and the door was opened. The two guards hauled John to his feet and led him through the doorway, into the hallway.

It was like some bizarre parade and he was the main attraction. As they walked down the dimly lit hallway, doors opened and people filled out, laughing and pointing at John's nude body. He supposed this was meant to humiliate him, but he was so incapacitated by the pain, he couldn't care less.

After an eternity of laughs and jeers, they arrived at a guarded door. Dona Lola opened it and shoved John outside.

It was night, and cold. That was odd for it being summertime. John didn't know if he was so chilled because of the fact he didn't have a stitch of clothing on, or maybe it was a side effect of the truth serum he had been injected with.

After a few moments of just standing outside, Dona Lola turned to John. "Don't look so glum. Things will turn out for the best. Well, for _us_ at least." She stopped and looked up into the sky. "Ah! Look! Look! Isn't it beautiful?"

John turned up his head and what he saw made his mouth drop open. There was a brilliant blue light overhead, so bright it hurt his eyes to look at it. The pulsating blue radiance narrowed its beam until John was in dead in the center. Next to him, Dona Lola was laughing hysterically.

And then he began to rise up off the ground. Slowly. He should have been terrified, but he wasn't. He was simply too awestruck for any rational thought at all. As he was lifted up through the sky, coming closer and closer to the source of the burning light, John wished he could see Scully one more time. He wanted to apologize to her. He had been wrong. She had told him the truth, but he hadn't wanted to believe it. Aliens existed.

The truth was out there, and Agent Doggett was experiencing it firsthand.

…

June 22nd, 2012

11:17 am

FBI Headquarters

"Monica, please just take a seat and relax."

"Don't tell me to calm down, Brad," Monica exclaimed. Her clothes were dishelmed, her eyes had big dark circles underneath them, and he was standing about 3 inches away from AD Follmer, giving him the third degree. "John has been missing for four days! Why haven't you organized some kind of manhunt yet?"

Brad quickly crossed over to his office's door and shut it. Things were about it get loud. That was pretty much a guarantee these days whenever he and Monica were together for any length of time. "Look," he said, as he returned back to Monica's side. "You can't just barge into my office and start screaming at me. That isn't the way to get things done."

"Well, lately things haven't been getting done one way or the other!"

"We're doing all we can, okay? I'm in the process of assigning agents to this case. Which, by the way, is very generous of me considering there is no proof that Doggett was kidnapped in the first place."

"No proof? What are you talking about?! I know-"

Brad smiled condescendingly. "What? Are you having vibrations again? Are you picking up auras that told you he was kidnapped? Come on. You need hard evidence."

Monica bit her lip. She studied Brad carefully. He was so smug. So self-

absorbed. He really thought he was something. She found it hard to believe that once she had been attracted to him. Monica watched as Brad took a seat behind his desk and shuffled some papers loudly – giving her the signal to leave. "Your lack of enthusiasm for finding John doesn't have anything to do about any insecurities on your part, does it?"

The shuffling of the papers stopped. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about you. You and I had a fling once, and now it's over. And ever since John I and got married, you've been skulking around the FBI taking your jealousy out on anyone that crossed your path."

Brad shot Monica a look that could kill. "I think maybe you're flattering yourself." He turned on his computer. It started up with a pleasant chime. "And this conversation is over."

But Monica wouldn't let up. "Tell me something. How are you still Assistant Director anyway? Remember that business back in 2002? You taking bribes. And how you murdered the man who was going to blackmail you by threatening

to reveal that? Who did _you_ bribe to keep your job, Brad?"

Rage was clearly evident on the Assistant Director's face. He shot up from his seat and pointed to the door. "Do I have to call security?! GET OUT, AGENT REYES!"

Monica shrugged and walked to the exit with her head held high. Just as she was about to step through it, she turned back. "By the way, I'm Agent _Doggett_." And she slammed the door before any other comments could be made.

For the next few minutes, Monica wondered aimlessly around the building. She didn't know where she was going. There was no destination. It was just good to walk. Being trapped behind a desk was a bad idea. She vaguely remembered getting on the elevator and pressing the down button. She must have gotten off at some point, but it was a blur. The only thing Monica was sure of was where she had led herself.

The old X-Files office.

Of course, it wasn't the X-Files office anymore. It was now just a room that held the copier. And by the looks of the dust present, it appeared as if it hadn't been cleaned in months. It was all so sad. Once, this office had held the most important things on Earth: The X-Files. At one time, this office had been a second home to great Agents like Mulder, Scully, and John Doggett. Now … it was so empty and forgotten.

Monica stood in the exact spot that John's desk had been in. A trickle of sunlight made its way in through the small rectangular windows near the ceiling. It was so sad. Once a command center for those that would uncover the truth, the room was now just a dusty old room that held a copier nobody used.

Monica turned and ran. She had to get out of there. The memories that office held were mostly good ones, but those times had passed and she was all alone now. Mulder and Scully had run off in hiding and John had been kidnapped. The good memories now just served to remind her of the mess her life was in right now.

The elevator ride went by too quickly. Monica wasn't ready to get back to work just yet. She needed some time to herself. Making her way to the Main Entrance of the building, she dug around in her pockets for some nicotine gum. She found some and popped it into her mouth. After taking five steps, she reached into her mouth and withdrew the ugly tan-colored gum and stuck it to the wall as she passed by. What she wanted was a cigarette. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

She had no cigs on her, so she had to go out and buy a pack. Monica sprinted across the lobby of the J. Edgar Hoover Building, working her way through the mob of tourists. She finally made her way outside and was about to walk to the nearest tobacco shop when she stopped. She felt eyes on her. She looked around quickly. Nothing unusual. People were walking down the street talking amongst themselves, cars motored this way and that, carrying people taking an early lunch break. In other words, nobody looked as though they had the slightest interest in Monica Doggett.

But there… On the other side of the street, standing by himself was a boy of about 10 years old. He was leaning up against one of those sightseeing buses that ushered tourists around the city. He was the one who was staring at her. He never blinked, never moved. It was creepy the way the kid was just standing there, still as a statue.

_Poor kid_, thought Monica. _Must be autistic_. She continued on her way a few steps and looked back again. He had moved his head a little to keep her in his field of vision and was still staring. It was odd and a little unnerving, to be sure, but Monica had more important things to worry about than spooky mute kids. She had to find John. Somehow. Nobody else was going to.

And off she went, turning her back on the boy as she took off down the street.

…

"William? What's the matter?"

William turned around to face his father, who had a concerned expression on his face. "Nothing. I just zoned out for a second." He peeked back behind him in the direction of the J. Edgar Hoover Building. The woman he had been looking at was gone. That was too bad. There had been something about that woman that had caused William to halt in his tracks. Could he have seen her before? That wasn't likely. In his all his 11 years, he had never set foot out of Wyoming. This trip to Washington D.C. was, as his mother put it, "a once in a lifetime opportunity". But he was certain he had seen that woman before…

Jim Van de Kamp placed his hands on his son's shoulders and led him back to the bus. The doors slid shut behind them with a faint hiss and William took his seat next to his mother.

"Isn't this exciting?" Gushed Debbie as she stretched her neck every which way to look out the bus' windows. "This is a once in a lifetime opportunity, Will. Mommy and Daddy can't afford trips like this often."

Buildings whizzed by as the tour bus made its way to the next destination. And with every building they passed, and every street they went down, William's sense of déjà vu grew stronger and stronger. It had started the moment their flight touched down at Ronald Reagan Washington national Airport and had continued while they were sightseeing. The sensation grew particularly strong when he visited Georgetown. It was like he had been here before. Not just visited, but actually lived in the city.

He felt a little guilty. His parents were so pumped up visiting the nation's capital and here he was, acting like a zombie. He could tell his parents were a little disappointed that the trip wasn't as fun for him as it was for them.

The bus rolled to a stop and the intercom buzzed on. "White House. White House. All those for the White House tour, please disembark here."

Debbie clutched William's arm and smiled. "Ooh! The White House! Imagine! The President lives here, Will!"

William smiled stiffly. Sometimes his mom could be so weird.

A handful of people filled out of the bus and made their way to the rear of the line for the White House Tour. "I hope we don't have to take off our shoes,' Debbie fretted. "They made us do that at the airport because of security, you know. Jim, do you think they'll make us take off our shoes."

Jim winked at William. They both liked to tease Debbie about her nervous behavior. It was a long-standing family joke. "No, honey. I don't think you'll need to worry about your shoes."

The White House guard at the head of the line asked for silence and proceeded to instruct everyone to ready themselves for the security check. Please leave any and all pocketknives, nail files and other sharp objects with the screening personnel. They would be returned after the tour. Yadda yadda yadda. William paid no attention to the guard's blabber. His parents could worry about that.

After the rules and procedure for visiting the White House had been gone over, the line began to inch forward as people passed through one of several metal detectors. Then, out of nowhere, a man at the back suddenly broke out of line and walked briskly toward the front, breaking ahead of several people. William was able to get a good look at the man as he passed by. He was middle-aged and wore a crisp dark suit. In his left hand, he carried a sleek metal briefcase.

As soon as William's eyes connected with the briefcase, a jolt went up his spine. He began to sweat and his eyes started to twitch. Something was in that briefcase. A bomb, maybe. A machinegun, perhaps. He knew it.

But he was only an 11 year old kid, and he trusted the guards to search the man's case and determine what, if anything, was inside that could be considered dangerous. But to William's surprise, the man was able to waltz right past security. All he had done was flash some kind of ID and that was it.

Hmm. Maybe there was nothing to worry about. He was probably just paranoid about being in a big city. In any case, the line continued to move forward and before long, he was next in line for the metal detectors.

One of the guards was about to lead him through when his radio went off. Psst! "The President's in danger! I repeat: The President is in danger!!! The Eagle is-" There was a loud bumping noise. "Oh, no. No! Stop!!! Somebody, help!!!" Any further words were cut off by a spit of a machine gun.

The guard who was about to help William through the metal detector seized his arm and pushed him to the side. "The President's in danger!" He cried at the top of his lungs. "Secure the White House and move the tourists out of the way!!!"

Several armed guards materialized out of thin air and roughly led the would-be visitors away. In the ensuing chaos, William was separated from his parents.

"Mom! Dad!"

The crowd of frightened tourists pushed the boy onward, nearly trampling him. "Mom!! Dad!! Where are you?"

"William!" Jim's voice could be faintly heard over the guard's cries and shouts. "William, I'm over here!"

William looked this way and that, but could not make out his father's whereabouts. "Dad, where are you? I can't see!!!"

The commotion was overwhelming. The guards were screaming out orders and the crowd was running all over the place like a bunch of sheep without a herding dog. Pushing and pulling through the crowd, William was able to make his way to the low stone wall that bordered the sidewalk that only moments before had been the line to go visit the White House.

He hoisted himself atop the wall and stood up above the throng of people. "Dad? I'm over here! Dad?"

A sudden burst of gunfire snapped his attention back to the White House. A man, dressed in a black security uniform was waving his semi-automatic in the air. His face was blank and expressionless. A round of gunfire caught one tourist in the leg and sent him crashing to the ground, where he was trampled by the crowd as they ran for their lives.

Screams. Chaos.

William bent down low and strained his eyes to get a better look at the gunman. It wasn't the man with the briefcase from before. This was a new guy. And… William couldn't be sure from his distance, but it looked as if the eyes of the gunman were black. Pure black, with a shimmering shine to them. Like oil.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Each second that passed seemed to go on forever as William stood transfixed on the stone wall, watching with horror as the gunman continued to fire randomly into the fleeing crowd.

After an eternity, a soft click was heard, signaling the semi-automatic had run out of ammunition. Any hope that this would bring about a stop to the attack was crushed as the crazed guard dropped the gun and ran at the tourist he had shot only moments before. William gaped as the guard straddled the man. The poor man was screaming for help at the top of his lungs, but there was no way anyone was going to put themselves at risk to help a complete stranger.

As the White House guard bent over the tourist, a muffled gurgling noise began to rise up from his throat and his head pitched forward suddenly. With a disgusting hacking sound, shiny black goo poured from the guard's mouth, eyes, and nose and splashed onto the victim's own face. The strange liquid congealed quickly and somehow slithered up the nose of the frightened tourist like it had a mind of its own.

The gunman jumped back to his feet and grabbed the arm of the person nearest to him, the bizarre black fluid dripping from his eyes…

William turned his attention back to the gunshot victim. His body was shivering, as if it was in shock. After a few jerky convulsions, the man got up off the ground and dusted off his pants, paying no attention to the gaping bullet wound in his leg. Maybe it had to do with the black ooze that had invaded his body, because now his eyes were swarming black as well.

"William!!!"

Jim appeared out of nowhere and grabbed William by the waist and pulled him down to the ground. Debbie stood next to him, her eyes wide with complete and total terror. Without saying another word, Jim took William's hand in a tight grip and they took off down the street. Debbie ran behind them, taking occasional glances over her shoulder to see just what was going on.

"Look!" She screamed.

Jim and William paused briefly and glanced back. The side doors leading to the White House were all fully opened, and dozens of people were rushing out. It seemed at first that they were running to escape a threat from inside, but closer inspection revealed that each of them had that same black oil swimming over their eyes.

"Come on!" Jim took hold of his wife's shirt and forcibly tugged her down Pennsylvania Avenue. Screams and gunshots filled the air. All around them, people were running around like chickens with their heads cut off. Running with no particular destination in mind, just running to escape the source of the chaos.

The tour bus the Van de Kamps had been on was gone by now. With no means of transportation, that meant that they had no choice but to travel by foot back to the hotel. But the idea of the hotel as a safe haven was diminishing quickly. By the sound of things, more and more people were being infected with the black ooze – and going completely crazy in the process.

They ran and ran until William felt as if his lungs would burst. Finally, when it seemed as though they had left most of the insanity behind them, Jim quickly ushered his family into a nearby store that was positioned along the road.

Once everyone was safely inside, he turned his focus on the man behind the cash register. "Call 911! Something's happened at the White House!"

The man behind the register put his hands on his hips and cocked his head to one side. "What's going on out there? Sounds like World War III or something."

Out of breath and shaking, Jim managed to piece together what he had seen. "I don't know! People are just going crazy! They're attacking people! I – I just don't know! But call 911 or something!"

The man still didn't seem to get it, but he moved in the direction of the phone that was hanging on the wall behind him. As he was punching in the numbers, he froze. "What the-"

_Smash!_

The door to the store was kicked open with a powerful thrust and the glass in it shattered. A horde of crazed city-dwellers came spewing out into the tiny shop, their faces were blank slates, but they moved with such swiftness it was clear that they meant harm to anyone they could get a hold of.

The few customers in the store and the cashier himself were momentarily dazed and confused by the sudden bedlam. Jim, Debbie, and William, however, lost no time in springing to action. Through a miracle, a back door was clearly visible at the far end of the room. The Van de Kamps dashed like mad to the exit. Not one of them looked back this time. The screams and gurgling noises behind them was clear evidence as to what was happening.

Thankfully, the door was unlocked and the three of them managed to escape into a narrow alleyway. The alley was pretty long, and led back out onto the street. Great. They were stuck. Going back out onto the street meant they would merge with the growing mob of crazies, but turning around and going back into the store wasn't an option either. Either way they were trapped.

Ultimately, Jim motioned for his family to proceed quickly but cautiously through the alley. The street, as seen through the opening of the alleyway, seemed deserted. No cars, no people. Just happy sunshine pouring through the sky and lighting everything in a summer light. The sight was deceiving.

Inching their way along the narrow back alley, William's mind raced with a thousand different thoughts. He couldn't believe he was running for his life. It was all so insane! A few minutes ago, he and his parents had been standing in line for a boring tour of the White House and the very next second, he was being chased by black-eyed zombies! And the scary part of it all was how _well_ he and his parents were copping with the sudden crisis. The way everyone was handling the situation, especially his dad, you would've thought zombie outbreaks were an everyday occurrence back in Wyoming. Maybe it was the adrenaline rush telling them to run now and ask questions later.

_People are going crazy._ That was what his father had told the man in the store, and William couldn't disagree. But what was that black stuff? Maybe it was some kind of weird virus, spread when that suited man with the briefcase entered the White House. It was almost certain that the virus, or whatever it was, had been inside that briefcase and for whatever reason, that man intentionally let it loose.

Add that to the fact that, judging from what William saw, it only took about 5 seconds from the virus to be spread from one person to another. That meant in a span of only one minute, 12 people could become infected. And before an hour was over, 720 people could be in the same boat.

Jim held up a hand, signaling everyone to stop in their tracks. He peeked quickly around the corner of one of the buildings that made up the alleyway. "Okay," he said. "I think the coast it clear. Let's move. Quick!"

Just as Jim placed one foot on the sidewalk outside, a large man in a New York Jets t-shirt came crashing out of nowhere and without a second's hesitation, gripped Jim by the neck. The man's face was emotionless as he began to weep black tears.

"DAD!!!" William started to rush to his father's aide, but Debbie held him back. She had collapsed onto the ground, her eyes bulging out of their sockets and her mouth an open O of horror.

"Let me go!" William shouted to his mother. "Let me go! I HAVE TO HELP DAD!!!"

But Debbie was either too concerned for his safety or simply too frightened to make any kind of response. In either case, she said not a word, still holding her only child tight in her arms.

"Run!" Gasped Jim as he struggled against his attacker. He kicked and punched the man, but it was all to no avail. It was as if the man couldn't register pain.

Run, he had said. That was easier said than done, for at the other end of the alley, the back door they had used for escape swung open and a dozen blank-faced people came filing out. They stopped when they saw that the New York Jets man already had things taken care of. Once they realized that, they quietly turned around and headed back inside. They trusted that New York Jets would infect Jim, who would then infect the other two.

William himself could only watch as the man he had loved all of his life tried to fight back. It was no use. The black liquid was pouring out of every opening on the other man's face and splashed onto Jim's. The liquid condensed itself and began to crawl upward, toward the nose and eyes.

Seeing that his handiwork was done, New York Jets let go of Jim and took off down the street to find somebody else to infect. Jim meanwhile, was standing erect. His head jerked from side to side and a strange gasping sound resonated from deep within his lungs.

"Urrgh! Uaaaaahhh!!!"

Debbie's grip on William's arm grew tighter. "Jim? Honey, what's going on?" Her voice cracked. "Oh, God help me. Jim, please talk to me! Are you okay?"

He wasn't. He turned slowly to face his wife and son, but as soon as he did so, it was clear he was no longer the man they had known. His eyes were swarming black and his arms were outreached as he tried to lure them into a fatal hug.

No! No, this couldn't be happening! William flattened himself up against the dirty brick wall of the alley and shut his eyes as hard as he could. His mom was screaming bloody murder next to him, but he paid her no attention. All William was thinking about was his father. As he waited to be infected himself, he remembered how his dad had carved him a buffalo mobile and placed it over his crib. Many a night, William could recall staring up at the floating buffalos and reaching out for them as Jim and Debbie looked on lovingly. And then there was the time William started kindergarten. It had been his dad who had taken him inside the school and walked with him to his classroom. And then when he cried at the thought of being separated, Jim had simply stroked his hair and kissed him on the cheek and promised that after school they'd go out for ice cream. And it was only last year that William made his elementary school's soccer team. And who had made it to every one of the games? His dad. Jim Van de Kamp.

Tears fell in rivers from William's eyes as he ran through these memories. But he didn't feel them. It wasn't fair! Why did it have to end like this? There were still so many things that life had in store for them. It just wasn't right or fair that it had to come to an end during the family vacation to Washington! No. He wouldn't believe it. Thee had to be some kind of way to fight this! He wouldn't accept that this was the end! No! No! No!

He pounded his fists into the cold brick wall behind him, his eyes still squeezed shut and teary. His heart thudded in his chest like a jackhammer and a cold sweat broke out all over his body. He was having difficulty breathing. His mind was a jumbled mess – memories and fears and hope falling all over themselves. He-

A cold inhuman hand fell on his shoulder. Debbie screamed.

And then, just then, it was as if a wall came crashing down in William's mind. A wall that had blocked him from his true potential. And as that wall came thudding down, William could _feel_ the alien force inside his father. He could almost physically see it as it latched onto Jim's brain and forced him to become its unwilling vessel. It was a vile thing, an evil force.

_Get out_, William's mind shouted at the black force. _Get out!_

Jim's body shuddered.

Yes, it was working! But he mustn't loose concentration now! _Get out! Go! Leave him alone!_

The virus, or whatever it was, resisted the command. It latched itself even tighter onto the brain, But William could hear its thoughts. Odd, he knew, but he could hear them anyway. It wasn't thinking in any kind of language, but rather in emotions. And right now it was afraid.

_GO!_ William scrunched up his brow and gritted his teeth together. Whatever he was doing (and he didn't exactly know what that was) was taking an enormous strain. But he was so close. LEAVE HIM!!! William pictured his mind as a giant hand that was ripping the black virus out of his father's body. _OUT!_

It was coming. Just one more mental tug and-

Jim took a sudden deep gasp of air. His back arched backward at an impossible angle and to both William and Debbie's surprise, the black goo began to leak out of his eyes. And not just his eyes, but also from his opened mouth, his nose, and both of his ears. It was trying to escape from William's unrelenting thought commands. Then, to everyone's amazement, the stuff actually lifted itself off of Jim's face and began to twist skyward. It was as if it was being poured into a glass, but the glass was in the air and upside down.

Noxious smells began to drift from the substance as it twirled even higher. A white mist rose from the liquid and soon, the stuff simply vanished into thin air. Evaporated.

"Dad!" William retched himself from his mother's arms and ran to his father's side. Jim, who had collapsed onto the ground, put a shaky hand to his face.

"What… What happened?"

"I don't know," William said. And that was the truth. He had saved him, but he didn't have the faintest idea how. But that didn't matter. Nothing mattered except finding a way to escape.

Jim seemed to realize this too as he got back to his feet (a little shakily, though). He took William's hand in one of his and Debbie's in another and together they ran out onto the street.

The reason for the lack of cars on the street soon became apparent. A couple hundred yards further on down, a massive multi-car pileup blocked traffic from the north. Flames were shooting out of the wreckage and the smell of smoke overpowered all else.

Since that way was a dead end, Jim and the others headed in the other direction. As they rounded a corner of the street, the squeal of tires shattered the oppressive stillness.

A black Ford stopped just a couple inches short of running them over.

Jim let go of his wife and child's hands and pounded on the hood of the car with both fists. "Help us! Let us in!"

The occupants of the car, a middle-aged man in the driver's seat and a youthful looking redheaded woman in the passenger side, motioned for them to hurry and get inside.

Jim nodded his thanks and threw open the back door of the car and stuffed William inside. He was thrown against another woman, who was already sitting in the backseat, as both Jim and Debbie managed to squish themselves into the small car.

Once he was sure everyone was inside, Jim yelled at the driver as loud as he could. "Go! Go, go, go, go!!!"

The driver didn't have to be told twice. He put the Ford in reverse and did a crazy 180-degree spin. Before all four tires were safely on the ground, William could hear the soft _clunk _as the gearshift was put into drive.

Off they drove. Buildings and those infected whizzed past as the car sped down the semi-empty streets of Washington at speeds close to 100 miles an hour. Occasionally, a few crazed citizens would thrown themselves in front of the car in an effort to get it to slow down so other crazies could infect the occupants. But whenever this happened, the driver paid it no mind. He simply kept his foot on the gas pedal as the car ran them over.

Once they were out of the city proper, the woman in the passenger side turned to the driver. "Mulder, what is going on?!" She asked in a slightly hysterical voice.

The driver, - Mulder – pounded the steering wheel with his fist. "We've been tricked, Dana!" He swore under his breath. "Gibson must've been found out and they must've …. must've… I don't know! But we were led here so that we would die." He jabbed a thumb back in the direction of the ruined streets of Washington. "The whole city's been infected!"

"Infected with what?" Dana cried.

The woman squished up next to William frowned. "Purity," she said. Her voice was extraordinarily calm. "What you call 'The Black Oil'."

Jim pushed himself up closer to the driver. "Do you know what's going on? If you do, tell us!"

"Just relax, okay?" Mulder said. The car was still speeding along the highway. Traffic, while still sparse, was getting back to normal the further away they got from the infected city.

"Don't tell us to relax!" Debbie screeched. "Tell us what's going on! Tell us!!"

"Tell us!" Jim joined in.

"Tell us!"

"Tell us!"

Dana whirled around in her seat, her blue eyes flashing. "Shut up! Both of you!"

Debbie's eyes swam with tears. "We just want to know what's going on," she sobbed.

"Alright, fine." Mulder mumbled from the front seat. "Washington's been infected with something called The Black Oil. It's extraterrestrial in origin and-"

"_What_?!" Jim exclaimed in disbelief. "I don't believe this!"

"Well, I suggest to start," the woman in the back commented. "It's the truth. The Black Oil is the life-essence of a certain group of aliens, whose main goal is to re-colonize the planet. It can control the behavior of others."

Any reactions to the contrary were cut off as Mulder spun the car into the parking lot of a Food Lion. He motioned at the three adults in the back. "Come on, get out."

"What's going on?" Debbie asked shakily.

"We need supplies. We're going into hiding. Pretty soon, the entire country, probably the world, will be infected and we need to gather as much food as we can if we want to survive." He turned to the woman up front. "Stay here with the boy. And keep your eyes open. The Oil will spread pretty quickly. If you see anyone that looks suspicious, take the kid and just run. Okay?'

Dana nodded as Mulder and the rest of the adults leapt from the car.

"We're not going to take the time to pay for the food we get," he was saying. "Just fill up your shopping carts and run as fast as you can back out here."

…

Scully watched as Mulder, Marita and the other man and woman ran toward the supermarket. She wished Mulder had stayed behind with the boy. That way, she could have gone inside. Staying out in the car made her feel uneasy. This section of town was still happily uninfected, but it was only a matter of time. And she didn't have a gun. But no matter. She had a job to do, and Dana Scully (former FBI) always got the job done.

She turned around in her seat and looked at the boy in the back. His eyes were wide open with fear and his little body was trembling. Hoping to aleve his tension, Scully decided to attempt conversation. "Hi," she said in her most kid-friendly voice. "My name's Dana. What's yours?"

The boy shifted in his seat. "Uh… Um… William."

What was that? William? Scully froze. William had been the name of _her_ son. The son she had been forced to give up for adoption. Could it be that this boy, this boy in the car with her, was her son? No. That was crazy. So they had the same name. So what? It would be too much of a coincidence. And Scully had always prided herself in not jumping to conclusions.

"So, William," her voice was shaking slightly. Stupid. Stupid! _Get ahold of yourself, Dana_, she thought. "I bet you're really scared right now. But everything's going to be okay. We're going to get through this – you, me, your parents, Mulder and the other lady, okay? Do you trust me?"

William lowered his head. "Yes, ma'am." He said.

Well at least he believed her. Scully wasn't sure is she believed herself.

"Um, Ms. Dana?:

Scully turned around.

"You've seen this thing before, right? The Black Oil?"

She smiled and nodded. "My friend and I used to be FBI agents. We investigated it on a couple of our cases."

"Well, do you … I mean, is there a way to cure it?"

Scully looked down at the ground. The hope of a child. Both hearting and disillusioning at the same time. "There was," she told him. "But it's gone now. It was a vaccine – a shot – but it's no longer around."

William remained quiet for a few seconds longer. And when he spoke again, Scully had to strain to hear him. "I did it," he whispered. "I healed my dad. He got infected with the Black Oil and I just …. just … I don't know what I did, but I just shut my eyes and healed him."

Scully was too overcome to make any kind of comment. If what this kid was saying was true, then he _was_ her son. Her William also had strange powers. It was why she had to give him up for adoption. The Syndicate had wanted William all to themselves, they wanted to use his powers for their causes. They had claimed he would play an instrumental role in the re-colonization of the planet.

And as Scully looked at the William in the back seat, she noticed things. She noticed his physical appearance. His hair was a dark brown color, with red highlights running through it. His eyes were an identical match to Scully's, both a clear sky blue. And the shape of his nose, it was the exact replica of Mulder's own "distinguished profile".

A tear slid gently down Scully's face.

"Are you okay?" William asked. "Ms. Dana? Ms. Dana? What's wrong?"

Scully wanted to shake her head. She wanted to take this boy in her arms and cover his face with kisses and shout, "William, it's me! Your mother!" But she didn't. She was too thunderstruck to say anything. Too incapacitated with emotion.

The trunk of the car popped open. Mulder, along with everyone else had returned from their shoplifting-shopping spree and began to pile unbagged groceries into the trunk like mad.

Turning around in her seat, facing the front, Scully put her head in her hands and wept.

Everyone pilled into the car at once and Mulder gunned the engine. The Ford lurched forward and sped out of the parking lot.

"Hey, Will, look what I found for you." The man, William's adopted father reached into his jeans pockets and pulled out a small bag. "Sunflower seeds. Your favorite!"

William managed a thin smile and took the bag and popped a seed into his mouth and began chewing.

His father put an arm around him and ruffled up his hair. "It'll be okay, son."

Scully let out a loud sob and covered her mouth with her hand, Mulder averted his attention from the road for a second. "Dana? What's wrong? Why are you crying?"

"These are tears of joy," she informed him, a broad smile coming over her face. "I just found something that I had lost a long time ago."

_Stop it,_ her rational mind ordered. _This is crazy. That boy isn't your son! Just think about this for a minute. What are the chances you'd just pick him up out of the blue? Hmm? A billion to one! It's just too big of a coincidence!_

_No_, a softer, quieter voice whispered. _This isn't a coincidence. This was meant to be, Dana. Mean to be._

Yes, Scully agreed. She reached up and touched the small gold cross necklace she had word ever since she was a little girl. This was a sign. A gift. A gift from God.

…

Mount Weather, Virginia

7:56 pm

Dona Lola sipped a glass of 1787 Chateau Lafitte as she watched the world go to Hell. According to the news reports she was watching, every major capital of the world, Washington DC, London, Moscow, and Tokyo were being ravaged by "crazed citizens".

That was a shame. She swirled her wine around in the crystal glass and took another sip. Ah. Most refreshing.

"Excuse me, ma'am?"

Dona Lola smiled. "Come in, come in."

Heterochromia Man nervously entered Dona Lola's private quarters and bowed at the waist. "I've just received the report from our New York operative. The United Nations building has been successfully infected."

"Fabulous." Dona Lola closed her eyes. It was all going so smoothly. With the leaders of the world gone, a power void would occur – a void that would be filled by FEMA, the Federal Emergency Management Agency. And after FEMA, the Neo Syndicate would take over things from Mount Weather. Glorious. But there was still one more thing: The capitals of the world were lost, but the world itself remained mostly unaffected. Only one thing to do about that.

Dona Lola took another sip of wine and motioned Heterochromia Man to come close. "Release the bees," she said.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Six Months Later

December 19th, 2012

Christmas was fast approaching, but homes and city streets throughout the nation remain undecorated. There was nobody left to string up the lights, nobody left to trim evergreen trees with tinsel and ornaments. Shopping malls throughout the world were empty. Radio stations did not play holiday tunes.

Everyone was dead.

Well, not dead exactly, but it close enough. And it was all thanks to the bees. Bees, who had been exposed to the Black Oil from genetically engineered corn crops that were laced with the virus. As the infected bees swept across the world, millions upon millions of people contracted the alien substance and became mindless shells of their former selves – totally controlled by the foreign force inside them.

A month after the initial outbreak, FEMA declared a state of emergency for the United States. To better handle the catastrophic plague that was ripping the nation apart, all manner of constitutional government was suspended as FEMA desperately attempted to contain the outbreaks. But it was no use. It wasn't just America that was succumbing to the strange black mind-controlling virus, but the entire world.

As summer turned to autumn and autumn became winter, an estimated 80 percent of the planet's population had become infected with the Black Oil.

Law and order were nonexistent. Any form of government was a joke. It was every country for their selves. In the United Sates, FEMA did their best to govern the chaotic populace, but it proved no match against the relentless death-march of the killer bees. By the end of November, FEMA had finally sunk to its knees and joined the rest of the world as it just tried to survive another day.

Uncertainty and hopelessness loomed on the horizon of each new day, but for Scully, Mulder, Marita, Jim, Debbie, and William, things were a little less bleak. Not that their lives were any less difficult, but at least they had each other.

Hidden away in the forests of the Virginia mountains was where they had spent the last six months. The first few weeks after the outbreak in Washington had been the most difficult. Things had been touch and go at first, but eventually they were able to make it south. They had taken to the woods, far away from anything resembling a town. Through a miracle, they had stumbled upon an old deserted farmhouse that was falling apart in the middle of nowhere. The house looked as if it hadn't been lived in for at least 50 years, but it had a roof on it and a few dusty beds had been found tucked away on the second floor.

Their only contact to the outside world was the 'ol Ford's car radio. From that, they had learned of the worldwide epidemic that was sweeping through the nations of the world. When Mulder and Scully heard that bees were most likely the source of the contagion, they both knew what was going on. The planet was being prepared for the arrival of the Colonists.

As the months progressed though, the radio stations each went silent. For a brief while, the only channel available was a station broadcasting from somewhere out near Richmond. It was operated by a college kid who had escaped infection. He used the radio to spout crazy hysterical theories about how the Black Oil was the result of Stonehenge and the Bermuda Triangle drawing out the cosmic forces of the moon. His show only lasted a few weeks. Driven mad by what was happening around him, he put a pistol to his head and pulled the trigger while still on the air.

Things had been hard. But the hardest things were yet to come.

…

"Ms. Scully, where do you want the water?"

Scully wiped the sweat off her brow and turned to William, who was carrying a bucketful of river water in each hand. "You can just put them inside the house and I'll boil it later, okay?"

"Sure."

Watching him go, Scully felt a pain in her chest. He was her son. Without a doubt. But she had never told him. He was so happy with Jim and Debbie … telling him the truth about who his biological parents were would only cause heartache. And things were too complicated for needless crying. Still, it broke her heart when he addressed her as "Ms. Scully". She would have given anything for him to call her "Mom". But that wouldn't do. Jim, Debbie, William – they were the perfect family. Scully had no right to break them apart just to make herself feel better.

Pushing these depressing thoughts aside, Scully got up off her knees and popped her knuckles. She had been sitting in the same position for more than two hours, fishing rod in hand, waiting for a bite. The groceries they had shoplifted six months ago had run out way back, and now they had to rely on other means of gathering food – like hunting.

The sun had sunk below the mountains by the time she finally made it back home. William had already set the buckets of water on the kitchen floor and was standing by them, waiting to be told what to do next. He was a good kid. He would've made any mother proud…

"Thank you," Scully said as she lifted the buckets onto the countertop. "You're a big help."

Blushing, William looked down at the floor. "Thanks."

"Could you do me another favor? Could you go get Ms. Covarrubias for me? I need her help boiling this water."

William nodded and took off like a shot. He was so eager to help. Scully had an idea that by helping others, he was getting a sense of "being in control" over something. It had to be rough on the poor kid. Being out in the middle of nowhere with no contact with the outside world was hard enough for the grownups. But the way William was coping … it was simply amazing.

"What's for dinner?"

Scully turned and saw Mulder enter the room. He looked positively filthy. He was covered in dirt and grime, his hair was matted to his head and his hands were brown with some unknown muck.

"How did the deer-hunting go?" Scully asked.

"It didn't," Mulder answered crankily. "Of course things would go a lot smoother if we actually had a weapon to hunt the deer _with_, but ..." He snorted and slapped his knee. "Oh, wait! That's right! Jim, otherwise known as Tarzan-King-of-the-Ape-People, crafted me a bow and arrow made out of pinewood." His voice took on a deep sarcastic tone as he mocked the other man. "Yeah, yeah. I was, uh, I was an Eagle Scout back in 18hundred and 76. I can build an atom-accelerator with two sticks and a ball of twine."

"So I take it things didn't turn out so well."

"I just want to forget all about it."

"So where is he now?"

Mulder snorted. "The guy's still in the woods playing hunter. He thinks it's an insult to his manhood if he doesn't catch a deer before the clock strikes twelve."

Scully sighed. Jim and Mulder didn't exactly get along. They were just two completely different types of people. Jim was more traditional, more levelheaded. Mulder liked to irk people on and get a reaction from them. The two personalities did not mesh well.

"Well, just don't let William hear you talk like that."

"Of course not." A moment's silence. Then: "Are you ever going to tell him?"

Shaking her head, Scully turned away from his stare. He had been the only person she had confided in about William. He had been shocked at first. Then he noticed the physical characteristics that the boy had inherited from both himself and Scully, and it was undeniable. Thank the Lord nobody else had picked up on it.

"So you're never going to tell him the truth?"

"Not right now, that's for sure. It … it isn't the right time. Okay?"

Mulder detected the quiver in her voice and came up behind her. He placed his dirty hands around her neck and slowly massaged it. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to judge. I know this is difficult for you. Not just William, but not knowing anything about your family's safety."

Oh, no. He was talking about her family. She couldn't deal with that. It had been hard enough severing all contact with them after Mulder's trial, but at least Scully had known they were okay. Her mom, Bill, Charles … Now, everything was uncertain. She didn't know if her family was alive, dead or if they had been infected. The only way she could get through each day was to block out all thoughts of them. It sounded cruel, but it was the only way she could function.

And Mulder was still going on, oblivious to Scully's eyes tearing up.

"I forget how hard this is on you."

"I'm fine," she said as she shrugged off his hands.

Mulder sighed. It was a sigh of disappointment. The type of sigh a teacher might express when a student forgets to hand in their homework. Scully couldn't stand that. She was strong. She was tough. And she hated showing any kind of weakness.

"I'm fine, okay? Look, I have to boil this water and then I have to prepare everyone's dinner and – and – I just have a lot of things to do, alright?"

"Sure. I understand." Mulder gave her a reassuring pat on the back, the kind Scully hated, and smiled. "I'll be down at the river if you need me. I have to wash all this crap off me before I mutate into a walking compost heap."

As he left, Marita entered. She looked a mess as well. But living six months in the woods with only one set of clothes would do that to anybody. Her blonde hair was dirty and fell in clumps to her shoulders. The suit she had been wearing since her re-encounter with Mulder in the Cloud 9 motel lobby was torn and ripped in various places. It was sad to see her, former United Nations dignitary, covered in muck and crime.

Actually, out of all of them, Marita was the least trouble (except for William, of course). She kept to herself mostly, not talking unless spoken to. She helped out with any chores that were assigned to her. She never grumbled or complained. She simply accepted the position she was in.

"You wanted to see me?"

Scully nodded and quickly wiped away a tear that was sliding down her cheek. "I need some help with the water."

Marita made no mention of Scully's teary state as she started to heat up the tiny gas-powered stove that they had found several months ago.

"Hey! Hey!"

The two women turned as William came crashing into the room. His face was white as a sheet and his eyes were big as saucers. Something was wrong. He was always very calm and put together, and to see him so upset was unsettling.

"What's wrong?" Scully asked as she bent down and wrapped her arms around the trembling boy. "What's the matter?"

"There," William said. He raised a shaking hand and pointed out a nearby window.

Marita made her way over to the window and looked outside. Everything seemed normal. The trees were swaying gently in the breeze, the mountains stood black and silent against the night sky – which was alive with a thousand twinkling stars. Nothing out of the ordinary. "I don't see anything," she said.

William wrenched himself out from Scully's embrace and moved next to Marita. "There!" He exclaimed, making wild hand gestures to the night sky. "Up there! That light!"

Sure enough, a bright bluish orb was outshining all the other stars in the sky. The illumination it gave off was a dozen times more powerful than the light of any other object in the sky. And it seemed to be moving. Yes, close inspection revealed that it was slowly making its way to the east. A plane? No. With the current situation of the world, it was unbelievable that air transportation was possible. But what was it, then? Unless….

"It's just a star, sweetie," Scully said. Her explanation sounded dumb even to her. Anybody could see that the thing was in motion. She had an idea of what it was, but there was no point in worrying William about it. "Why don't you go on outside and find your mom, okay? I think she's out by the waterfall. You know where the waterfall is, don't you?"

"Don't lie to me!" William screeched. "I can feel them! I can feel them up there! Th- the aliens! They're coming!!"

The sight of the William, usually so together and with it, degenerating into a nervous breakdown, was absolutely terrifying. Scully took a quick look out the window once more to see if the light was still there. It wasn't. It had moved on.

"I want you to go find your mom," Scully ordered as she shook the boy.

William's eyes dashed from side to side as he examined the room he was in. His lips began to tremble, mouthing silent words. He seemed to be in a trance.

Scully ordered Marita to take William to his mom and she did so. With that out of the way, Scully fled the small house and ran outside into the night. She had to find Mulder. That light in the sky … William's reaction to it …. there was only one thing it could be.

_Snap_.

What was that noise? Scully froze in her tracks and looked about nervously. It was too dark to see anything clearly. Thick rolling clouds blocked the light of the moon, so the entire landscape was veiled in pitch darkness. _Snap_. There it was again, the sound of a twig breaking beneath a footfall! Was somebody following her? Was somebody out there watching in the dark? No, it was probably just some animal or something. But William's words haunted her. He had said "alien".

"Marita?" Scully whispered in a harsh voice. "Jim? Debbie?"

No answer. Just the sound of the river rushing off in the distance.

By now, the feeling of uneasiness was almost unbearable. Scully had decided that she would just head back to the house and wait for Mulder to return when out of the corner of her eye, she spotted something. Peeking out from behind a nearby tree was the silhouette of a man.

"Jim? Is that you?"

The clouds that had been blocking the moon's rays moved on, and the forest was bathed in soft white light. It soon became apparent that the man Scully was talking to was not Jim. In fact, it was questionable if it was even a man at all.

The _being_ looked human – Caucasian, about six feet tall, short dark hair, and dressed in something that resembled a black mechanic's jumpsuit. But it was the face that threw everything into question. The eyes had been sewn shut and the lips of the mouth seemed to have been melted together. The opening of the ears, too, had been fused closed.

As soon as Scully laid eyes on that hideous face, a blood-curdling scream forced its way out of her petite little frame. She didn't care about looking brave; she didn't care about projecting a confident exterior. All that she cared about was getting away.

Pure primal fear took hold of her brain with a quick, cold grip. Without thinking, she spun on her heels and took off. Was she headed back to the house or was she running toward the river? It was impossible to say. It didn't matter.

She ran. And as terror radiated out from every pore in her body, she was transported back through time. 2012 became 1998 and Scully was still running. The faceless men were behind her! She had to escape! Run! But where was Cassandra? Did they take her? Did they kill her? Oh! The faceless men were setting people on fire! Run! Over there! A hiding spot!

Lost in another time, but a similar situation, Scully lost her footing and tripped over a raised root. She tumbled down hard and the hit the forest floor with a thud. Her left ankle pulsated with faint pain – it was probably sprained – but there was no time to tend to it. She could hear the footsteps of the faceless creature behind her. Slowly but surely, he was coming for her.

Scully picked herself up off the ground and continued to flee. She ran and ran until the river appeared before her, blocking her path.

"Mulder! Mulder where are you?!"

She raced along the bank of the river, screaming his name. Where was he?! He said he was going to be here! Why wasn't he answering?

Scully looked back at the woods, searching for any sign of the man that had terrified her so. She didn't see anything, but that didn't mean he wasn't out there.

Where was Mulder?! Panic upped Scully's heart rate as she searched for any sign of his whereabouts. She found his clothes – shoes, socks, shirt, pants and underwear – lying in a heap off to the side of the water's edge, but no sign of Mulder himself.

The faceless man, the alien, was just behind her in the woods. She could practically feel his nonexistent eyes burning holes into her back. Run. Run!

"MULDER!!!!"

With a sudden splash, Mulder broke the water's surface. He shook his head from side to side like a wet dog, slinging water droplets everywhere. "Tone it down, okay?" He joked as a smile broke out on his face. "You're disrupting my transcendental meditation."

Scully's patience snapped like a rubber band. "_Will you just shut up and get out here?!_"

That stirred Mulder to action. Without any further witty comments, he came bounding up out of the water, his face grim and set. "What's wrong? What happened? Is it William?"

"No time to explain! Just hurry up!"

Mulder hurriedly pulled on his jeans and left the rest of his clothes behind as he joined Scully in a mad dash across the clearing. "Do you mind telling me what's going on?" He exclaimed.

Scully was about to reply when she clamped her mouth shut and snatched Mulder's hand. There, directly ahead of them, stood the faceless man. He was just standing there, not uttering a word. He was watching them. Even though he had no eyes to speak of, he was gazing at them.

"Oh, no," Mulder whispered. His body went tense. "Run." The word was little more than a sigh. He licked his lips and took tiny, sharp breaths, too afraid to inhale too deeply. "Run, run, run, RUN!!!"

And off they ran, like a shot from a cannon. Hand in hand they went bounding away from the alien being as they headed toward the forest.

"Wait."

Neither Scully nor Mulder paid the voice any attention. They only had one thing on their minds: escape.

"Stop."

A hand seized Mulder's shoulder and he whirled around, swinging a fist at the creature. The alien ducked and grabbed his arm as it passed overhead. The sight of Mulder at the mercy of the faceless man overrode any fear that Scully had for the time being. She raised her hand up high and brought it down quickly, intending to karate-chop the alien's grip on Mulder. However, the being was either exceptionally fast or Scully was just too slow – for he caught her hand in mid-drop.

_This is it_, her mind screamed. _You're going to die._

She was going to die before she had told William the truth. Oh, what she would give for one more second with him! Scully closed her eyes as she prayed to God feverishly, begging Him to allow her to live just a few more minutes – just long enough to tell her son that she was his mother and that she loved him. Only those two things. But it was no use. She was as good as-

"I do not wish you harm you."

What? Scully opened her eyes and stared at the featureless face of the man who had just spoken.

"I will not hurt you. You have my word," the alien being said. His voice was deep and clear, unaffected by the fact that he had no mouth to speak with. "I will now release you, but you must promise that you will not flee."

Mulder slowly nodded and was immediately freed. Scully did the same and she was released as well.

"It was not my intention to frighten you. I only want to talk."

Neither Mulder nor Scully said a word. They were too overcome with both awe and fear to say much of anything. They both had had close encounters with alien life forms before, but this was the first time that one of them had actually spoken to either of them. And as the faceless man began to talk, Scully's mind whirled. This was historic. This was bigger than walking on the moon or the discovery of America. Talking with an extraterrestrial… Things didn't get much more surreal than this.

"You two are seekers of the truth," the man was saying. "You both know that in the course of a few days, this planet will be re-colonized. Already, the majority of the Earth's population has been infected with Purity. Those infected are servants of the Colonists. The group that I represent is opposed to colonization and will do anything to halt the process. As such, I am your ally "

The faceless man paused to allow time for any questions to be asked. Mulder took the opportunity to express the doubts he was having. "I've seen how your group works. You murder. You kill. Isn't that right?"

"You are referring to the destruction of the original Syndicate, are you not? True, we were forced to take drastic measures the time you speak of, but I can assure you that it was for the best. Had we not interceded, your planet's future would have been set. If the humans who pledged allegiance to the Colonists had been allowed to survive, this planet would be in worse condition than it is now."

Hearing the faceless man speak these seemingly kind words infuriated Scully. She remembered back when she herself had almost been killed by the rebel group that had murdered the original Syndicate. In 1998, she, along with several other abductees, had been subconsciously drawn together as a group to the Ruskin Dam in Pennsylvania. There, they would have been abducted for the final time. But things did not go as planned. The Rebels had attacked. Scully could still smell the sickening aroma of burning flesh as the Rebel aliens had set fire to the innocent crowd gathered.

Hearing the faceless man speak as if he were interested in the wellbeing of the planet was enough to make Scully vomit. Shaking, she told the Rebel in front of her all about her experience at the dam. "You murdered those people," she spat once she was done. "You set them aflame. Don't come here and pretend to be our friend! I know what you've done! I know how you kill innocent people to get what you want!"

The Rebel remained silent until she was finished. At the end of the rant, he tilted his head slightly to one side and spoke. "You do not understand. We had no choice but to kill those you speak of. The site you were at in Pennsylvania, Skyland Mountain, Kazakhstan, they were Lighthouse Points – sites where the colonization will begin. Had we not interfered at those locations, the Colonists would have inducted all of the people gathered at those sites into their Hybrid Program."

"Cassandra Spender," Scully growled the name of her friend. "You killed her too, didn't you?"

"We had to. She was the first truly successful hybrid, a perfect fusion of human and alien. Had she been allowed to live, that would have spelled chaos for Earth."

"Well, I'm so grateful for that!" Mulder said sarcastically. "Because, gee, everything's been going so smoothly around here recently."

The Rebel's voice remained unemotional. "Make no mistake, as bad as things are now, they could have been worse. Our enemies are ruthless."

"The Colonists?"

The faceless man nodded.

"How do you know them?" Mulder asked. "Why are they your enemies?"

"To understand that, you must understand the history of the Colonists." He paused to allow time for Mulder and Scully to contemplate what they were about to hear.

"Millions of years ago, the Earth was a barren wasteland. No life existed anywhere. But then, a meteor fell from the fourth planet of your solar system and landed here on Earth. The meteor contained within it the black substance known as Purity. As the years went by, Purity was able to form itself together and create life. The Colonists. As such, they were the first inhabitants of Earth. The Colonists were able to commune with their life-force, Purity, and made great leaps in evolution and intelligence due to this communication. They remained on Earth for millions of years as new life flourished. Namely simple, single-celled organisms and basic plant life. The Colonists, inspired by the bursts of new life, decided to manipulate Purity to create a new race of beings. They were eventually successful and created humans. But as time went on, harsh conditions swept the planet that made life difficult for the Colonists. They decided to leave Earth at the start of the last Ice Age. The Colonists boarded vessels capable of traveling through space and left to find a new planet to inhabit. After thousands of years, they discovered another planet, very much like Earth, teeming with life. They named the planet for themselves and went about the process of exterminating its original inhabitants: us. A long war lasting thousands upon thousands of years broke out. My people tried their best to take a stand, but it was hopeless. The Colonists used their life-force to infect us."

The faceless man's voice broke for the first time and he lowered his head to the ground. "It was horrible. Entire bloodlines wiped out forever, once-great cities falling… Purity was a force that could not be stopped. But then, a small group of rebels began to scar their own faces to avoid infection. They sewed their eyes, mouth and ears shut so that they could continue to fight the Colonists who had taken everything away from them. But it was still a loosing battle. The power-hungry aliens from another galaxy were ravaging our planet. As more and more of our fellow brothers died out, we were forced to come to a terrible decision. We decided that we would not allow the Colonists to have our planet. We would rather destroy it ourselves. And that is what we did: We destroyed our own home world. I can speak for my group when I say that I would rather have died a thousand deaths than lived to see our beautiful home ruled by the cruel Colonists."

The Rebel raised his head back up once more and when he spoke next, it was with strength and pride. "The Colonists escaped the destruction and fled. We chased them all throughout the galaxy as they searched for a new place to dwell. Eventually, they returned to Earth, their home planet. They were amazed what had occurred in their absence: Their little experiment, the humans, had risen to become the chief force on Earth. The Colonists looked with pride at their old world and decided to make it their home again. But they were careful to do things right this time. Before, their arrogance had blinded them when they had attempted to colonize _my_ planet. This time, they were determined to do things slow and gradual, working with a select group of humans to secretly take over the world."

A long pause. Mulder and Scully were speechless. They had long ago accepted the idea of alien life, but to hear there were _other _beings out there separate from the Colonists and living in their own ancient cities and cultures was almost too much to fathom. But there was still one more unanswered question.

"Why help us?" Scully asked in a reverent whisper.

The Rebel straightened up to his full height. "We hate the Colonists. We cannot forgive them for what they did to our world. If the Colonists want this planet for their own, we will fight them. They are our eternal enemies. We will oppose them until our dying breath. But…" He paused. "We cannot do it alone any longer. Our forces have been decimated. We currently have only a few hundred members in the rebellion. That is not nearly enough to take on the Colonists. And that is why we need your help."

Mulder and Scully exchanged looks of disbelief.

"We will continue to fight the Colonists in space," the Rebel continued. "But it is your duty to take care of the humans who ally theirselves with them."

"The Syndicate," Mulder said, as much to himself as to anyone.

"Yes. We do not have the manpower to take down both. You must dispose of the Syndicate to prevent colonization. We will do our part, you do yours."

"How do you propose we do this?" Scully asked. "How do we 'dispose' of them?"

"The leader of the Syndicate has ties with the Colonists. We do not know what those ties are, but we know he or she works closely with them. And there is something else… According to our data, the leader may not be completely human. If this is indeed the case, you would want to use this."

The faceless man reached his hand inside his black jumpsuit and withdrew an object and handed it to Mulder. It was a long silver tube. Mulder ran his finger along the side. He knew exactly what it was and what it was for.

_Psst!_

A slim spike jutted itself out from the end of the tube with a hiss of air.

"What do you want us to do with this?" Scully asked the Rebel.

The answer was simple and short. "Kill the leader of the Syndicate."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter9

After getting that cigarette on the fateful day of June 22nd, Monica made the decision to smoke it in a nearby park. It was a decision that saved her life. Had she gone directly back to the J. Edgar Hoover Building, she would have come face-to-face with a horde of possessed citizens as they swarmed the building, infecting everyone they came in contact with. As it was, however, Monica was far away and managed to escape the chaos.

But that didn't put her in the clear. She, along with a handful of survivors, managed to escape Washington, but once they were out of the city limits, each went their separate ways. Monica fled south. She was able to stay one step ahead of the Oil as it radiated outward from the capital, but it finally caught up with her at Alexandria, Virginia.

As the city fell, Monica met up with four other survivors and went into hiding. While the city's population succumbed to the alien virus, the pathetic four hid inside a multi-story hotel. When that became too risky, they moved underground. The Metro subway system became their home for six months. Six months of living in darkness and the constant terror of being discovered by the "Oilers" – the term coined to describe those possessed by the black liquid.

The four survivors merged together to create a family of sorts. There was 24-year-old Juliet, an ex-fashion correspondent who had promoted herself leader of the little group. Then there was 45-year-old Frank Wellborn and his five-year-old daughter Savannah. Frank's wife and Savannah's mother had become infected with the Black Oil early on. Rounding out the group was a 72-year-old grandmother named Delores. She never spoke about her life prior to the viral outbreak, but it was assumed she lost her entire family. She was the quietest member of the group and the most fragile, prone to crying and fits of depression.

A family, they were, but along with that sense of unity came squabbles and petty fights that broke out every so often. Like now.

"It's your turn, and you know it!" Cried Juliet, her arms crossed, her eyes glaring at Frank.

Frank frowned. "Yes, I know it's my turn. But under the circumstances, I don't think I should leave Savannah." He turned to his daughter and stroked her light brown hair lovingly. "I think she has the flu or something."

As if on cue, Savannah sneezed violently, spraying the air in front of her with snot and mucus. Embarrassed, she looked down at the ground and brought her knees up to her chest. "Sorry."

Juliet's attention was focused on Frank and on the task of chastising him. "It's your turn to go out and collect food! I went last week, and you go the week after me. That's the way it's been for six months now!"

"I know that!" Frank responded angrily. "But my daughter is sick! She needs me with her now! I'll go next week!"

"No! You'll go now!"

"No! I'm staying right here!"

"Don't tell me what you will and won't do! We have a system and we follow it to ensure everything runs smoothly!"

Frank made another heated comment, but Monica tried her best to block it out. She was sitting Indian-style on the edge of the subway platform. Her eyes were closed and her breathing was relaxed and rhythmic. She was attempting to meditate, trying to cleanse the negative energies from her body, but things weren't working out too well. Juliet and Frank's verbal assault grew louder with each passing repartee. And it had been going on for the past five minutes.

It had all started when he had declined to go out into the city and gather up food – a practice that had been in place ever since the move to the subway. The system was Monica would go one week, Juliet would go the next and Frank would go after her. Only Savannah and Delores were spared the job of braving the infected streets to gather food. Savannah was just a child and the frail, elderly Delores was in no shape physically to ward off an Oiler attack if one occurred during the search.

The whole system had been planned by Juliet and she took it personally when somebody questioned it – like Frank was doing now,

"Look," he said, his voice was hard and only one step away from full-out verbal war. "I am sorry, but I cannot go this week. My daughter is sick. I would appreciate it if you'd-"

"Oh, that's okay!" Juliet exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air. "Don't worry about it! So what if we don't have enough food to last us through the week? Who cares? I have an idea! Let's just all lie down and die because that's what's going to happen anyway! Let's all get a gun and blow out our brains! How would you like that? Huh? HUH?!"

As Juliet's voice rose with righteous anger, Savannah began to sob and buried her head into her Hello Kitty plush doll. Delores, who had remained silent throughout the whole fight thus far, covered her ears with her fists and began to cry as well. The tension among the four was at the breaking point. Juliet belittled Frank for shying away from his group duties, while he fired back at her for not caring about the health of his daughter. The angry voices filled the entire station and the argument showed no signs of letting up.

Monica opened her eyes and sighed. She had had enough.

"Both of you _be quiet_!!" She moved in between the two screaming adults and looked them both dead in the eye. "Would you both just clam down for a minute?"

Juliet raged at the implied scolding. "He started it! I'm just trying to keep things in a system! Why are you getting on my case, Monica?"

"I'm not getting on anyone's case, okay? I just want you both to calm down before you say something-"

"I'm the one who does the most work around here! I'm the one who organizes everything while the rest of you just sit on your butts and twiddle your thumbs!" She motioned to Delores. "If anybody should be getting mad at anybody, it should be at her! What does she do? Nothing! She just sits there drooling all over herself!"

That was the last straw. Monica had spoken with Delores several times and enjoyed their conversations. They never talked about anything serious, though. Most of their talks centered around Delores' gardening club and the flowers she used to plant in her own little garden behind her house. A few times, she had started speaking about her grandson, but stopped in mid-sentence when she realized it. Delores was quiet, but underneath her silence was a woman of great integrity and Monica wouldn't allow anyone to take cheap shots at her.

"Look," Monica growled as she grabbed the steaming Juliet by the shoulders. "I don't know what your problem is and I don't care. You think you're better than anyone else just because you had a job in the fashion industry? Well, that doesn't matter anymore. You're on the same level as all the rest of us, got it? And another thing. You think of yourself as our leader, right? Well, the first thing a leader has is compassion for those beneath her! And that's something you're lacking!"

Frank broke into haughty applause while Juliet, unaccustomed to being scolded, looked down at the floor. She ran a hand through her hair - hair that had once been styled into perfection by high-priced beauticians, but was now frizzy and full of split ends.

"I'll go," Monica said, trying to smooth things over. "I'll go now and Frank can go next week. Okay?"

No objections were raised. Frank smiled and shook her hand and offered a heartfelt thank-you. Savannah, hiding a little behind Hello Kitty, also managed to express her gratitude. "Thanks for making it so my Daddy can stay with me," she said.

Monica smiled and hugged the small girl. And on her way out, she made a point to do the same with Delores.

"Thank you for sticking up for me," the old woman whispered through tears.

And so, Monica turned and left the three people at her back as she wondered down the dark tunnels of the subway, feeling like a saint. It felt good helping people. True, she wasn't exactly crazy about going street-level to look for food, but life was all about helping others. If you treat others with respect, the more likely others will give you the same courtesy. Monica was a strong believer in that creed.

Moving quietly, Monica ascended the long escalator that connected the subway with the ground-level station. The station itself was dark and empty. It was around 8 o'clock at night, still pretty early for food retrieval. Most of the time, the person doing the food-gathering duties would go out early in the morning - two, three, or even four o'clock. By going out so early, the less likely you were to encounter an Oiler walking the streets. Eight o'clock was a dangerous time to be walking around the city.

Monica poked her head out of the station. The streets of Alexandria looked deserted. For now.

She tiptoed out of the dark Metro station and onto the sidewalk. She pressed her body up against the side of the building in an effort to make herself invisible to any Oilers that might be out there.

The moon was up in the sky, unblocked by clouds, and illuminated the city in its soft light. Monica was shocked at the state of things. The last time she had been out and about, things had looked bad but in the two-week span between that trip and this one, things had gotten even worse. The city just looked defeated. Most of the buildings were charred derelicts, hallowed out by fire. Cars chocked the streets. Some were new models that obviously had cost thousands and thousands of dollars, but now they were dented and beaten up and resting on four flat tires.

That made Monica think of Juliet, who had once been so special and so high up in the world. And where was she now? Hiding in the subway with rats and without any working toilet facilities. Monica smiled bitterly to herself. The end of the world. The great equalizer.

And Juliet wasn't all bad. Nobody was all bad. She was just a scared and anxious young woman, trying to find her place in this new and terrible world. Monica would have a talk with her later.

Movement up ahead.

Monica instinctively crouched behind a street mailbox and peeked around it to see what was going on. The outline of a person was clearly visible, pacing back and forth along the middle of the road. The person was too far ahead to be sure, but it was a safe assumption that he (or she) was an Oiler. Whoever it was was walking too pleasantly, too causally to be anything but. And that was just fantastic. The guy (it was clear enough to see it was a man) was blocking the way to the Food Circus. If Monica wanted to go there, she either had to sneak past him or just wait until he moved on.

But …. Monica looked closer, squinting her eyes as she tried to make out detail in the darkness. The outline of that man. There was something familiar about it. And then she saw it. She saw who it was. John. Her husband.

She should have waited. She should have just sat tight and watched. That would have been the rational thing to do. He very well could have been infected with the Black Oil. Why else would he be walking the deserted streets of the city? But Monica's mind wasn't in the rational mode just then. It was John, her husband whom she hadn't seen in six months! He was alive! And he was just over there – a few feet from her!

Monica bolted from her hiding spot behind the mailbox and shouted his name, tears rolling down her cheeks. "John! John!"

The man turned. It was John, sure enough. He was dressed in a black polo shirt and jeans and when he saw who was calling him, his face went slack with disbelief. "Monica?" He whispered. "Can that be … is that really you?"

Oh, what a miracle! Monica vision was blurry through tears, but she saw well enough to envelop her long-lost husband in a bear hug. He was real. She was hugging him with both her arms and he was hugging her back. He was real. It was just too incredible to believe, though. _Don't question it_, her mind commanded. _Just accept it_.

"Where were you?" she asked with a shaky breath. "What happened? How did you get here? I thought you had been kidnapped or something! I – I – How is this possible?"

John did not answer. He simply stroked her hair and gently kissed her forehead. But it didn't matter how he was here. The main thing was he was here with her, after all this time. Monica could even smell the special kind of after-shave he used as she bent her head down close to his neck, though it was probably only her imagination.

After an eternity of hugs and kisses, Monica gently pulled away. She wiped a tear away from her eye. "I can't even put into words how happy I am. It's a miracle. It really is. Now I want you to come with me." She took hold of his hand and began to lead him off down the street.

"Where are we going?" John asked.

"A safe place. I've been hiding in the subway tunnels with three others. They're good people."

"In the subway?"

"Yeah. Come on! Hurry up!"

John smiled sadly and drew his wife close to him. "You're so brave. I'm so proud of you. I had given up hope of ever seeing you again. I cried myself to sleep each night, wanting to tell you something and I knew I'd never have the chance to."

Monica took his rough face in her hands and looked into his eyes lovingly. "I'm here now, John. What is it you wanted to say?"

"That I love you."

Those three words. I love you. Strange that that simple sentence could mean so much. And hearing it from the mouth of her seemingly dead husband made Monica appreciate it all the more. It was hard to admit, but Monica never had much faith that John was alive. She wanted him to be, but she knew the odds were not in her favor. So to see him now, in the flesh, saying "I love you", it was… It was…

Monica threw her arms around John's neck and kissed him softly on the mouth. "I love you, too," she said. "You have no idea how much." Her fingers gently glided over the back of her husband's neck as he put his hands on her waist. Things were going to be different from now on. It was going to be wonderful.

Hmm. What was that? Monica's fingers ran over a small bump on the base of John's neck. Had he been injured? An insect bite? She peeked around his neck to look at it. And when she saw it she gasped. The lump was bigger than it had felt. It looked like there was something under his skin.

"Oh, no."

The terrible realization struck her like a thunderbolt. But it was too late to run, too late for anything. John's arms tightened around her harder and harder in a vice grip. The air was being pushed out of her lungs. She could hear her spine popping and crackling. It sounded like Rice Krispie treats. It hurt. John was hurting her. He was hurting her on purpose.

She had to act fast. She leaned back as far as was allowed and looked into John's eyes. They were blank and unemotional. They were also wide open, which made for perfect targets.

With lightning speed, Monica rammed her two index fingers into both of his eyes. He uttered a surprised yelp and his grip on her went slack. This was the opportunity she was waiting for. She flung up her arms in a windmill motion, breaking his hold and took off like a shot down the dark and ruined streets of Alexandria.

"After her! There are more hiding in the subway!" Came John's voice from behind her. But who was he talking to? And then she saw movement in the shadows. And in one swift instant, the city was no longer deserted.

Dozens and dozens of Oilers came pouring out of houses and from behind bushes. Their eyes swam with the black liquid of the infected and their gaze was cast upon Monica. There must be over a hundred of them – all blank faced and emotionless and with only one thing on their mind: Spread the infection.

Monica fled. She ran as fast as her legs could carry her. She had to get back to the subway. That was where the Oilers were headed. Juliet, Frank, Savannah, Delores … they were in danger! Monica could hear the deafening pitter-patter of a hundred running footsteps running behind her and forced it all out of her head. She couldn't pay any attention to that. If she hesitated even for one second, the Oilers would catch up and then there would be no one left to save the others. And she could save them if she could just reach them in time! The subway was a collection of interlocking tunnels. If she got there before the Oilers, Monica and the others could take refuge deep within the maze.

But she had to hurry.

There was the Metro Station just up ahead! _Go! Go! Go!_ The word sounded off in Monica's head each time her frantic heart beat. The Oilers were right at her heels, waiting for any slipup that would give them the opportunity to catch up.

It was hopeless. Deep down Monica knew that, even as she ran for her life to warn the others. The infected were simply too close behind her. But she had to try. Juliet and the others were the only family she had, now that John was…

Monica took the escalator steps three at a time. Deeper and deeper into the subway she went. And when at last she reached the bottom of the seemingly endless escalator she screamed for Juliet and the others to run.

Juliet was leaning up against the wall of the subway, her eyes glazed over. She was probably daydreaming about her former life as a high-ranking fashion official as she so often did. But when Monica's cry went off, shattering the tomblike silence of the subway tunnels, Juliet's eyes came back into focus. She swiveled her head toward Monica, her face stupid with incomprehension.

"Run! Run!" Monica screeched, making frantic waving gestures with her arms. "The Oilers are-" But she wasn't able to finish her sentence. The infected citizens of Alexandria pushed her hard in the back and sent her crashing to the ground as they headed for the Juliet, Savannah and Delores. Monica shielded her face with shaking hands as hundreds of feet trampled over her. _I've failed!_ _I wasn't able to save them!_

"Daddy! DADDY!"

Monica looked up and through tears, she saw Savannah calling out for her father, who was caught in the clutches of an Oiler.

"Savannah, run! Quickly!" Frank managed to choke off the words as his attacker bent his head forward, black goo dripping from his open mouth.

Monica shut her eyes. She couldn't bear to see anymore.

"I – I can't!" Savannah screamed in a shrill voice. "They're everywhere! I can't … _Daddy, help me!!!!"_

Monica's eyes bolted open reflexively. She saw Frank being tossed to the floor, his body convulsing as the Black Oil ravaged through his body. She saw his only child, Savannah, with a look of pure childlike terror as she watched her father's eyes turn black. She saw Juliet pinned up against the wall by the wrists, an Oiler in her face. Her face had the look of someone who knew they were about to die.

And then she saw John, John who was no longer the man she had married. She was one of _them_ now. Somehow, somewhere along the way, he has been transformed into a Super Soldier. He approached the group of Oilers who had formed a tight circle around Delores and Savannah. Dolores had the crying child in her arms, a look of sorrowful acceptance apparent in her old grandmotherly face. "Please," she whispered. "Let the girl go. Please. I beg of you. If you have any kind of heart at all…"

John looked at the two shaking figures for all of three seconds. Then he turned to the Oilers and spoke in a monotone voice. "They are unacceptable as hosts. Proceed with extermination."

And before Monica could register what was happening, an Oiler in a policeman's uniform stepped forward with a pistol in hand.

_BAM!_

Savannah screamed.

_No,_ Monica's mind thought numbly. _This can't be happening. It's a dream. Nobody could be this cruel._

She wished she could run to the child's aide, but her ankle had been sprained in the fall she had taken. And an Oiler was bending over her; black liquid begging to drip from it's possessed eyes.

All a dream. Just a dream. Had to be.

_BAM!_

The last thing Monica saw before she closed her eyes once more was a bloodstained Hello Kitty plush doll fall to the floor.

Mulder and Scully headed back to the house in silence. They were too astounded by what the Rebel had told them to say anything. After he had given them the ice-pick weapon, he had revealed more information about the colonization plans. He told them terrible rumors about "birthing centers" scattered across the world – places where women were held against their will to conceive and birth alien babies for the Colonists. The Rebel had also given them a timeline of future events. On the 22nd, the invasion would begin and soon thereafter, every Black Oil victim on the planet would simultaneously gestate into a new being. In other words, every person infected would more or less be replaced with an alien.

Scully shivered despite the unseasonably warm December night. What the Rebel had said haunted her. She didn't want to believe what he had said, but she had been up in the mountains for too long and was oblivious to the rest of the world. She didn't have a clue what was going on.

The old farmhouse loomed up ahead, the downstairs area ablaze with lantern light. Through the windows, she could see that everyone was inside. Great. Fantastic. That made things _so_ much easier. Not.

A knot of dread clenched her stomach as Scully prepared to open the side door of the house. "_Tell him_." That was the last thing the faceless man said to them before he vanished in a flash of white light. "_He needs to know the truth. He is too valuable a solider to be left in the dark._" William. He had been talking about her son. But William a solider? The idea was ludicrous. The poor boy was so kind and thoughtful. He couldn't hurt a fly. But apparently, there were things about him that even she didn't know.

She knew he had been in the soccer and baseball teams of his school back in Wyoming. He had made the A Honor Roll every year and one night William confessed to her, blushing, that he had a girlfriend back home, a little 10 year old girl named Celia. But there were things she didn't know. Things she might never know. And now she had to tell him the truth about everything.

Scully opened the door with a hideous creak and stepped into the brightly lit kitchen alongside Mulder. The room was packed. Marita was leaning up against the non-functioning oven, while Jim held a clearly distraught Debbie over at the kitchen table. William sat next to his dad, his blue eyes unfocused and his chin resting in his hands.

When Debbie saw Mulder and Scully, she shot up from her chair. "What's going on?" She cried out, on the edge of hysteria. "William said he saw a light in the sky? Was it the aliens? It was the aliens, wasn't it? They've come! Oh, Jim!" She turned to her husband and buried her head in his chest. "It's started!"

Jim patted his wife awkwardly on the back and turned a disapproving frown at Mulder.

"Debbie. Debbie! Calm down," Mulder ordered. "Everything's okay."

"What is going on?" Jim asked, looking at both Mulder and Scully. "Are the aliens here?"

Scully stole a glance at Marita, who seemed unaffected by the Van de Kamps' alarm.

"Tell us!" Jim bellowed. "We're in this too! We have every right to know just what is happening!"

"We'll tell you," Mulder said. "But we all need to calm down."

"Don't tell me to calm down! You, Dana, and Marita have been hiding things from us! Now I want answers!"

That was all the incentive Mulder needed to engage in a verbal fight with Jim. The two men began screaming at each other, each about two inches from the other's face. As the voices rose in anger, Debbie collapsed back down in her chair and sobbed. Scully grabbed onto Mulder's shirt and tried to pull him away from Jim, while Marita simply looked on with an air of semi-amusement painted on her face.

The verbal tirades lasted for another good 30 seconds. And in the end, it was William who put a stop to it.

"SHUT UP!" He screamed.

The sound of William's voice raised in anger was a sound none of them had ever heard before. Mulder and Jim were instantly silenced. Even Marita seemed slightly shaken.

"That light I saw," William continued. "I knew what it was. It was a spaceship, wasn't it? I know it was! But how did I know that? It was like I could sense it… I just … I don't…" He squeezed his eyes shut and tapped his temple with the index finger. "These last few months I've felt like such a basketcase. There's something going on inside my head! How is it that I could sense that spaceship? How is it I could heal my dad back in Washington?! _Would somebody explain to me what's happening to me_?!?!"

Suddenly, one of the gas lanterns arranged on the kitchen counter rose from its spot and hurled itself across the room. Everyone looked at each other on shock before Marita ran over and set it upright again.

He was right. Scully rushed over to her son's side and kissed him on top of the head. This was it. Jim and Debbie deserved to know the truth. And William needed to know who he was.

Scully turned to both Debbie and Jim. "You might want to sit down for this," she said.

So she told them everything. She told them about the conspiracy within the United States government to work cooperatively with the Colonists and how that group was eventually murdered by a separate Rebel alien race. And how a new group had arisen after that one. Mulder took over speaking duties after a while and Marita even chirped up now and then to offer her two cents. And when everything was told, there was an astounded silence in the room.

"Incredible," Jim muttered at last.

Debbie shook her head. "And this has been going on since?"

"Since Roswell," Marita said matter-of-factly.

"I don't believe it," Jim whispered. "I mean, I do, but…"

"Okay, but what does this have to do with me?" William asked sadly. The poor kid looked totally confused.

Scully took a deep breath and cast a sideways look at Mulder. He nodded in reassurance. This was it. "What I'm about to say may not be easy to hear, but I think we've all come to a point where we have to be honest with one another." She took another long breath, delaying the inevitable. "The alien Colonists know all about you. They know about your powers. And they wanted those powers for themselves. The aliens were convinced that you would be the key to either victory or defeat in the upcoming colonization. It all depended on who got to you first. So many people wanted you and …"

Her voice broke and she began to sob. She knew she would. The topic was just too emotional for her to keep a level head. "It just seemed like everyday somebody else was trying to take you away. Your life was in constant danger. Every day of every week. It – it never ended!"

Jim wrinkled up his brow. "What are you talking about? What do you mean when you say people wanted to take William away? I don't get what you're trying to say. I mean, you only met him a few months ago and now you're talking like you've known him forever!"

"I knew him once," Scully said. She locked teary eyes with William and for one moment, there was nobody else in the room except them. "Do you remember?" She asked hopefully.

William opened his mouth like he was going to speak and them shut it. He was looking at her with the strangest look on his face. Things were starting to click.

"I'm your mother."

There. The truth was out. The past six months had been so hard. Being so close to William but not being able to express her true feelings for him broke Scully's heart. Ever since she had been reunited with him on the streets of Washington, she had fantasized about telling him she was his mother. In her fantasy, William would weep in joy when he found out the truth and would throw his arms around her neck and they would live happily ever after together like in some fairy tale. But she knew that if she ever did decide to tell him, things would probably turn out differently. In the real world, he would more than likely become upset and storm off and refuse to speak to her ever again.

But oddly enough, William didn't seem to have any reaction at all. Everyone else did. Debbie uttered a pinched gasp and Jim sounded off with another one of his famous "I don't believe it's". Even self-contained Marita was shocked into attention. But William himself just sat there. His face was impossible to read. Was he relieved to know the truth about his birth mother? For that matter, had he even know he was adopted in the first place? Hmm. Maybe that was something Scully should have found out before she had dropped the bombshell.

She could sense that Jim and Debbie were on the verge of a total breakdown, so she decided just to lay everything out on the table before they had a change to go into hysterics. "I know this is really shocking," Scully said, her eyes still on William. "It was a big shock for me, too, when I figured it out."

Jim swore rudely. "This is insane!" He got up from the kitchen table and stepped in front of William, as if to shield the boy from the crazy woman. "Lady, I don't know what your problem is, but Will is not your son!" He gestured franticly to his wife for support. "Come on, Debbie," he exclaimed. "Help me out here!"

Debbie appeared as if she were in a daze. She was looking down at the floor, her shoulders stooped. "He's _my_ son," she whispered. Her voice was soft and barely audible. "I can … I can prove it. We have baby pictures." She wasn't talking to Jim or to Scully. It was as if she were trying to convince herself.

"It's not my intention to upset either of you," Scully said. "Believe me."

"Oh? Then what _is_ your intention?" Jim put his hands on his hips. The corners of his mouth were cast down in a severe frown and when he spoke, little bits of spittle flew everywhere. "How dare you make up these insulting lies! You must really think my wife and I are stupid!" By now, Jim had positioned himself about five inches away from Scully's face and was tapping her upper chest hard with his finger. "That's it, isn't it?! You think just because we're hicks from the country, and you're big bad FBI agents, we'll fall for anything you say?"

Mulder put a stern hand on Jim's shoulder. "Calm down."

That was the straw that broke the camel's back. Upon hearing those words, Jim flew into a rage. "If you tell me to calm down one more time, I swear I'll put your head through the wall!"

"Isn't that against the Eagle Scout code of conduct?" Mulder asked sweetly.

Veins appeared on Jim's neck, big and purple. His hands balled up into tight fists. His face took on the hue of a radish. "And I suppose you're going to say you're Will's father," he muttered through clenched teeth.

Mulder said nothing.

"I think everyone just needs to take a breather," William said, forgotten. He turned to Jim. "I think there might be some truth in what Ms. Scully's saying."

"What do you mean, Will?" Debbie cocked her head to one side like a dog that didn't quite understand a command from its master.

"Come on, Mom. I've always known I was adopted." He chuckled. "Remember those puppet shows you and Dad used to put on for me when I was little?" Without waiting for a response, he turned to Scully and gave her a melancholy smile. "My parents would do these little sock-puppet shows. One sock would always be my biological father and the other would be my mother. And they told the story of how, even though they loved me, they had to give me up because they weren't able to provide for me the way they wanted."

And for the first time since their reunion, William was looking at Scully as more than an acquaintance - a friendly stranger. Could it be that the look in his clear blue eyes was love for the mother he had never known?

"You only wanted to protect me," William said in a soft voice. A voice that carried with it more wisdom than his meager years should have contained. "You wanted to keep me, but in the end you knew that I would be safer someplace else. Isn't that right?"

He understood! He wasn't angry or bitter. The look in the boy's eyes and even the way he was standing, relaxed and at ease, let her know that he completely understood.

"Y-y-yes. That's right," Scully stuttered. She felt another spell coming on and before she could adequately prepare, she burst into tears. As her body shook, a feeling of shame came over her. To loose control in front of all these people was utterly humiliating. She always kept her emotions in check. That was how she had been able to gain the respect of her peers at the FBI. The role of the stern and detached scientist was one that fit her well. So to have a complete sobbing breakdown in front of her own child wasn't a good thing. _So much for the strong-willed mother figure image_, Scully thought sadly.

Then, suddenly, she felt and warm arm around her shoulder. She glanced up and saw William, his face only inches from her own. "Hey, I get it," he said soothingly. "You made a choice. And it was the right one."

"It … it was the hardest one I ever had to make," Scully hiccupped.

And they embraced. An act that had been over 10 years in the making.

After a good three minutes, William pulled away from his biological mother and, wiping away a tear, turned to Mulder. "And I guess this goofball is my father."

Scully laughed. It felt good to laugh. "I'm afraid so!"

Mulder waved awkwardly. "I apologize in advance for any genetic-derived obsessions with sunflower seeds and the pornographic," he said.

"Mulder!" Scully exclaimed.

William threw back his head and guffawed. "It's scary that I have half that guy's DNA in me."

It was a happy reunion for all three. Finally, after all these years, they were a family again. But for Jim and Debbie – the people who had actually raised William – the whole scene was bittersweet. William noticed their silence and turned a happy face to them. "Hey, cheer up! You guys are my parents, too! You were the ones who put up with me for all these years!"

"Not an easy task," Debbie said. A barely-there smile was on her face.

"Exactly! Man, I'm really lucky. I have not one, but _two_ sets of wonderful parents!"

"But Will," Jim asked. "Are you sure about this? It just seems like one big coincidence if you ask me."

"I'm sure," William assured his dad. He tapped his temple with his finger once more. "Like I said, the past few months, things have been going on inside my head. I've suspected it for the longest time, but I was never sure until now." He frowned and turned back to Mulder and Scully. "That reminds me. How can you explain these … powers of mine? You said they were important to the aliens, but how did I get them?"

Ah. The million-dollar question. Scully shrugged. "I honestly don't know. You displayed telekinetic abilities when you were just a baby." She paused. "At first, I thought maybe you hade been _created _as part of some government program. But now, after having all these years to think about it, I don't believe that's the case." She took her son's hands in her own and said seriously: "I now _know_ you are a miracle. There's just no other way to put it. A miracle from God."

And over by the table, Jim and Debbie nodded in agreement. "He sure is," Jim said, as he hugged his weeping wife.

"But what _I_ don't understand," Scully continued. "Is how you were able to use your powers? When you were an infant, you were injected with a substance – a substance that, from what I understood, would cure you of your abilities. So how-"

William's eyes lit up. "That explains it! Before I healed my Dad back in Washington, I felt as if there was this wall up inside my head. I could feel this power inside me, but I couldn't use it. That barrier was blocking it. But I just kept pushing and pushing and eventually that wall just fell."

"Amazing," Scully breathed. "Just amazing." And before she knew it, she had wrapped William in her arms and was kissing the top of his head. And then she felt Mulder's arm around her shoulders as he joined in. And before long, Jim and Debbie were a part of the circle of love as well.

"Oh, wait," William exclaimed. "What about her?" He pointed at Marita, who hadn't said a word in ages. "Who is she? My aunt or something?"

Mulder snorted. "Nope. I'm afraid she's left out of the loop."

William frowned. "Well, that's not good!" He thought for a moment and then smiled. "Marita, you can be my godmother."

Marita stiffened. "Oh. Well, thank you. That's very-"

Jim rolled his eyes. "Would you just shut up and join the group hug?"

Marita smiled, an act she didn't have much experience with. Blushing somewhat, she got on her knees and was caught up in the outpouring of love.

…

Mount Weather

11:07 pm

The world was ending. That was a fact. But at the Mount Weather facility, everybody was getting along famously. While the rest of the world starved, the Mount Weather workers dined on expensive china and drank the most delicious wines. While the rest of the world huddled together in the darkness of the night, praying for an end to the nightmare, the people of Mount Weather enjoyed watching television with power provided to them from their generators. Nothing was on the TV, of course, but there was an exhaustive DVD library to choose from.

The nations of the world fell. America died. But none of that was of any importance to Mount Weather, for it was a world whole and complete upon itself. Dona Lola prided herself for this. As leader of the "Neo Syndicate", she had brought things together quite nicely. She often thought about the old Syndicate and how they would have handled things if they were alive today. The Well-Manicured Man, all of The Elders, the Cigarette-Smoking Man… Hmph. The old Syndicate had been a collection of lying, traitorous, cowardly old men. They had attempted to deceive the Colonists – their true masters, by working on that foolish vaccine project. Ha! Had they really thought their treachery would have gone unnoticed? In any event, their deaths were a welcome event. After the destruction of the old Syndicate, Dona Lola was brought in to re-organize things. And under _her_ rule, nothing less than complete obedience would be tolerated.

The former Syndicate was doomed from the start. The leader back then had been only human. Weak. Foolish. Lying. Dona Lola was none of these things. She was strong, smart, and truthful. And she enjoyed a very close relationship with the Colonists. But there were a few things that bothered her. A few things kept her from basking in her glory.

But on the night of December 19th, 2012, she was given an answer to those problems.

Dona Lola smiled to herself as she sat in her favorite chair and opened the book on her lap. It was the Koran, the Islamic holy book. This would be her ninety-fifth time reading it all the way through. But she never tired of it. A good fairy tale never went out of style. Next week, she would start on The Bible.

_Idiots_, thought Dona Lola as she began to read. Putting faith in invisible gods. How terrifically stupid. The idea of A Supreme Being being a kind and loving entity was laughable. As was the ideas in the Koran and the Bible and all the other feel-good religious gibberish ever written. Dona Lola knew the truth. She knew who the real gods were. They were the Colonists and they were coming back.

"Um, e-excuse me. M-Ms. Lola?"

Dona Lola put down her book and turned. Twitchy Man was standing in her doorway. He looked anxious. His entire face was covered in sweat.

"What is it?" She asked crossly. "I hope you know you're interrupting the half-hour I dedicate to reading."

"Y-y-yes, ma'am. I realize that, ma'am. But you have a visitor. Ma'am."

A visitor? That was news. She was about to ask who it was, but she doubted the idiot could give her an adequate response without stuttering all day long. Instead, she arose from her chair and brushed past him. The "visitor" was probably in the library. So Dona Lola headed in that direction. Sure enough, when she arrived there, a crowd had gathered outside the large oak door that led to the room.

They had been making nervous chatter amongst themselves but when they saw her, all conversation ceased and they scuttled off in a dozen directions. Idiots. She opened the door to the library and stepped inside, not knowing who or what she would find inside.

And then she saw it. It was standing in the middle of the room, its hands in its pants' pockets.

A Bounty Hunter.

If there was one thing Dona Lola hated even more than Mulder and Scully, it was the Bounty Hunters. They were a race of aliens that policed things for the Colonists, but she didn't trust them. They didn't believe in the Grand Plan of colonization. They only wanted to be paid. The Bounty Hunters would do anything, pledge alliance to anyone, if the price was right. Disgusting.

"What are you doing here?" Dona Lola asked, not bothering to hide the distaste from her voice.

"I have information," the Bounty Hunter said simply.

Dona Lola waited for him to elaborate, but nothing else was added. That wasn't surprising. The Bounty Hunters didn't talk much. They preferred to act. "Information regarding what, exactly?"

"Mulder and Scully."

Now that was interesting! Dona Lola had to fight herself to keep from smiling. If anyone had info on those two, it would be the 'Hunters. But she couldn't afford to be careless. "Assuming this information you have is accurate, why would I care?

Colonization is a few days away. Who cares about two trouble makers?"

"You care," the Bounty Hunter said. "You want my information."

Hmph. He -_it_- had a point. She would give anything to know where Mulder and Scully were. The very thought of it was thrilling. "Okay, I'll bite. Where are they?"

The Bounty Hunter produced a piece of folded paper and handed it to her. Written on the paper were coordinates. She looked at the paper for a long time. "How did you find them?" She asked nonchalantly.

"They were visited by the Rebels. We tracked them."

The Rebels? Crap. It wasn't a big deal, not really. The Rebels were a small group and weren't very powerful, but the fact that they had been talking with Mulder and Scully …. Well, that was bad.

"If this information is accurate, you'll receive a substantial payment," Dona Lola said as she folded the piece of paper and placed it in her pocket. And without another word, she turned on her heals and left the Bounty Hunter trash alone in the library. With her face safely turned away, she allowed herself a smile.

It was time Mulder and Scully were paid a visit by an old friend.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Back in the mountains of Virginia, inside a neglected farmhouse, a heartwarming reunion was underway. The hugging and tears of joy went on for some time, but it eventually came time to discuss more serious matters. Scully didn't want the celebration-like atmosphere to end, but it was imperative that they move quickly. They were on a strict timetable. Only their actions in the next few hours would tell if colonization could be prevented. If they failed, there would be no other chance. If they hadn't succeeded in destroying the Syndicate by the time December 21st became the 22nd, there was no hope.

It was a sobering thought.

At the front of the kitchen, Mulder was laying it all out. The grand plan for saving the world (or what was left of it) hinged on only one thing: Killing the leader of the Syndicate. He withdrew the ice-pick weapon and elaborated on the plan as he understood it. The Rebels would take care of the Colonists, so it was up to him and Scully to take the Syndicate out of the picture.

Once he was finished bringing everyone up to date, Mulder put the odd-looking weapon back in his pocket. "It's going to be tough, but if we just take things one step at a time, there's no reason why this thing won't work."

"So basically, the plan is to storm Mount Weather and kill the Syndicate leader," Marita said. A trace of doubtfulness was apparent in her voice.

Mulder shrugged.

"You must be joking. There's no way you'll be able to breach the security there. You and Dana are very brave, but there's no way just the two of you can do a thing like you're describing."

"It won't be just the two of them," came a voice from the back of the room. It belonged to Jim. The man looked at both Mulder and Scully and gave them each a subtle nod. "I'll go with you."

That didn't seem to sit too well with Debbie. When she heard her husband speak those words, she grabbed on to his arm and pulled him close. "What are you saying?"

"I'm going with them," he said. The way he said it indicated that the matter was closed and any further conversation was going to be useless. But that didn't stop Debbie from trying to reason him out of it.

"Well, what about me and William? You'll leave us here just to-"

"It's the right thing to do."

"No it isn't! The right thing to do would be to stay here with your wife and child who need you!"

Jim was about to say something else when Marita interrupted. "It doesn't matter. Three people won't make much of a difference."

She had a point. What they needed to do was gather up all the survivors and have everyone descend upon Mount Weather with guns blazing. But that wasn't going to happen. The pathetic few survivors were scattered all over the world and in hiding. Even if, through some kind of cosmic miracle, they were able to make contact with the rest of the survivors, it would take precious time to round everyone up for the assault. If only they could somehow reach a nearby uninfected group. But how? It was going to be like looking through a haystack to find a needle. If only the phone lines were working, or the TV, or the radio…

A light bulb went off in Scully's brain. "Wait." She said. "Wait, wait, wait. Remember months ago when that one last radio station was on the air? The college student who killed himself during one of his broadcasts?' She didn't wait for the others to respond. The idea she had was a good one and she feared if she stopped talking, it might simply vanish from her mind. "He mentioned something once about a group of survivors hiding out in Richmond. From the way he talked about it, it seemed to be a pretty large group."

Everyone else in the room was silent, as each turned what Scully had said over in their minds. They were quiet for so long that she was afraid they were going to discount her suggestion. At long last, Mulder spoke up. "Richmond's a big place. You think we'll be able to find them?"

He wasn't dismissing the idea. That was good. All Scully had to do now was to convince everyone else that her plan was the most logical choice. "We'll find them. And once they've been located, we move everyone to Mount Weather."

"That'll take a lot of time."

Time. There just wasn't enough of it. "I know. But we have two days left. It's important we make the most of them. Mulder, you and Jim go to Richmond. I'll head for Mount Weather. I can survey the place while you gather up the survivors."

Mulder didn't seem too thrilled with this part of the plan. "I don't think that's such a good idea," he said. "You've never been there. You won't know how to get there."

"I'll go with her."

Heads turned as Marita walked across the room and stood next to Scully. "I've been there several times."

Mulder was shaking his head and had opened his mouth to say something else but Marita wouldn't have it. "We don't have any time left. Don't you understand? If we're going to do this, we have to do it now." She looked around the room. "Are we in or are we out?"

"In," Scully said without hesitation.

"In", repeated Jim.

Then it was Mulder's turn. All eyes were on him as everyone awaited his response. But he didn't utter a word. He was just shaking his head slowly from side to side.

Scully took her partner's hand in a gentle grip. Without saying anything, she looked deep into his eyes and gave him a look that said, "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

"In," Mulder said without much enthusiasm.

Now that everyone was in agreement, Scully went full steam ahead. Another car was going to be needed, and the best way of finding on was driving along the mountain roads and stopping at the first house with a car in a carport. It was the easiest way.

"Well," Jim said, after the car business was explained, "I guess that's it."

"No. It isn't." Debbie arose from her seat at the table and made her way over to her husband. Her hazel eyes were red and puffy. And when she spoke, she tried her best to sound steadfast and strong, but what came out of her mouth was shaky and quiet. "Don't go," she pleaded. "I've been sitting there in that chair for the past few minutes trying to think of a way to convince you not to leave, but the only thing I can think to say is 'just don't go'."

Jim closed his eyes. "Honey, listen-"

"No. Let me finish. I know you want to help out. I know you have all the best intentions. But if you leave me and William behind, I just…" Suddenly, her face contorted and she flung her arms around his neck. "If you go, I don't think I'll ever see you again."

There was no reply from Jim's end. Instead of saying anything, he pulled his wife close and kissed her. Before long, both of them were crying. "I have to do this." He said at last.

Scully looked away. It always made her uncomfortable when people expressed their feelings so openly. But when she looked away, she came face to face with William. The boy was standing erect, his tiny chest puffed out. The way he was holding himself, it was obvious the kid had something on his mind.

"I'm going too," he said.

He was dead serious. His hands were balled up tight and his head was held high. He really did look like a solider going into battle. It was hard to forget that, despite his mature attitude and his willingness to do anything, he was still 11 years old. A child. And Scully had no intention of sending a mere boy out onto the front lines of a war.

"I'm sorry, William," she said. "But it's just too dangerous."

"Why?! I have powers! I can be a big help! You said yourself that I was the key to victory!"

So her words had come back to haunt her. But Scully would not be moved. "I'm sorry," she said. "You're staying here."

"But-"

Jim bent down on one knee and placed himself eye-level with William. "You're a brave little man, but somebody has to stay here and keep an eye on your mom."

Off to the side, Debbie bobbed her head. "I need you," she said. "Mommy's really, really scared."

William frowned as he went over to her and hugged her tight. As he did this, Scully felt a twinge of jealousy. But she pushed it out of her thoughts. As much as she hated to admit it, the Van de Kamps were William's real parents. They had raised him, and in the end, that was all that mattered. Maybe someday, if everything turned out all right, she and Mulder could start to build a relationship with him. But the key word was "if". And it was all the more reason why they should succeed.

"I still want to go," William huffed.

"Come here," Scully said. "I want to give you something."

William approached her, not sure what to expect. He watched as she put her hands behind her neck and fiddled with something. After a while, she brought them down again. She took one of William's hands in one of hers and pressed something into it. "Take it."

He opened his hand and looked down at a gold chain with a tiny cross at the end of it.

"My mother gave me that," Scully said as she watched William's expression. "And now I'm giving it to you."

"It means a lot to you," he breathed. "I can't accept this."

Scully wouldn't take no for an answer. She took the necklace from her son's hand and hooked it around his neck. "Whenever I felt like I couldn't go on, I would just touch it and everything would be put back into perspective." She smiled. "I hope it does the same for you."

The boy lifted a trembling hand and touched the cross that hung around his neck. "Thank you. I'll treasure it."

She smiled again and turned back to the others. She nodded to Mulder and Marita as she made her way out the front door and into the warm night. She didn't look back. She knew if she did, she wouldn't be able to leave.

…

It didn't take long to find a house with a carport and a car parked inside. And it had to be a carport. Since there was no power, garage doors wouldn't be functional. But they were in luck. Within four minutes of cruising the winding roads, a simple ranch-style brick house came into view with a gleaming blue Mustang in the open-air garage.

Mulder parked the Ford everyone was in and the whole crew piled out and made their way across the overgrown front yard and to the house. Scully couldn't get over how pleasant it felt for it being December. And the night sky was so clear. There wasn't a cloud in the sky. Millions upon millions of stars shimmered above them, diamonds in the sky. It would've been a beautiful sight, but Scully couldn't help but think that behind each of those stars there was a world inhabited by ruthless alien races, cruel and intent upon forcing themselves upon all the other stars in the sky.

She didn't think she could ever look at the night sky in the same way again.

"Marita, hand me your jacket."

Marita stripped off her suit's jacket and handed it to Mulder. He wrapped it around his fist and punched through the glass window of the front door. It shattered with a pleasant twinkling sound. Mulder reached in and unlocked the front door.

As soon as the door was opened, a putrid odor assaulted the nostrils. The food in the kitchen must've rotted months ago. Thankfully, the car keys were found hanging right next to the door on a heart-shaped holder, so they didn't have to spend much time inside.

The keys were handed to Marita.

"Take good care of Dana, okay?" Mulder asked.

Nodding, Marita moved closer to him. Something was on her mind. "Um, I want to tell you something."

Mulder blinked. "Okay."

Silence followed. Whatever she was about to say was pretty serious. As the precious seconds ticked by, she just shook her head and said, "Good luck," before hopping into the driver's side of the Mustang.

Jim scowled. "She's a strange one," and then, turning to Scully: "Take care of yourself, you hear?"

Scully promised she would and watched as he made his way back to the Ford.

Then it was just her and Mulder. They both shuffled their feet and looked down at the ground. They knew what was coming. It was time to part ways.

"Mulder, I just want to tell you something while I still can." She put her hands in her pockets. "I just wanted you to know that this has been an amazing experience. Following you all these years …. seeing the passion that drives you …. it's made me stronger."

A look of realization flittered across Mulder's eyes. "You're making a good-bye speech, aren't you?"

He didn't get a response.

"This isn't the end," he said. "I don't want you talking like we'll never see each other again. I refuse to stand here and participate in a long tearful farewell."

He was doing it again. Trying to protect her. But Scully would not be put off this time. "Fox, listen to me." She hardly ever used his first name. He hated it, and the use of it now indicated that she wanted to get something off her chest. "I just wanted to say that I think we've become better people for knowing each other. And I love you. I know I don't say it often enough, but I do. I love you more than I ever thought possible. And even if we both die trying to save the world in the next few days, I'll be on the other side waiting for you."

Mulder reached out and took her face in his hands. "I've put you through so much. Your abduction, your cancer, your sister's death… It's all been my fault and I'm so sorry."

Now that Mulder was pouring out _his_ heart, it made Scully a little nervous. They weren't going to make it after all. They were going to die. She knew it. But despite the feeling of dread, she had to continue saying al the things she wanted to say. "Don't worry," she continued. "I followed you of my own accord. I've said this a thousand times, but I'll say it once more: I'd do it all over again."

"Even the flukeman thing?" Mulder asked incredulously.

Scully laughed. "Even the flukeman thing."

"I love you, Dana"

"I love you, too."

Their lips met in a gentle kiss as they held each other close. If only they could've stayed like that forever. But they both had a job to do. Save the world. A noble endeavor if there ever was one.

She reluctantly turned from Mulder and slid into the passenger side of the newly acquired car. Marita started the ignition and they backed out the driveway and onto the road. The car was then put into "drive" and off they went. Scully's eyes remained on Mulder the whole time. After they had backed out of the driveway, she turned around in her seat so that she could still see him. She dared not blink as he became smaller and smaller. Finally, he disappeared from sight all together.

_Oh, God_, she prayed silently. _Please look after them. I know I have no right you ask that of You – my faith has wavered so many times – but I'm begging You: Watch over them. Please._

The next several minutes were painfully noiseless. There was nothing on the radio to ease her mind, of course. And she didn't want to go to sleep. Maybe a little conversation would help ease the oppressive stillness.

"You, uh, you seemed like you wanted to tell Mulder something," Scully said, not looking at her companion. "What was it, if you don't mind my asking?"

"Nothing," Marita replied shortly.

Hmp. Okay, so she wasn't the best conversationalist. Scully leaned her chair back and made herself comfortable. Maybe sleep wasn't such a bad idea after all.

But Marita surprised her by explaining it after all. "Ten years ago, at Agent Mulder's trial, I was called on as a witness." Her cold eyes remained totally focused on the road ahead as she recounted these past events. "He was facing the death penalty and I was considered the best witness he had. I backed up Mulder's work the best I could. I testified to the alien/government conspiracy, but when the time came to answer the hard questions, I failed. I was too afraid for my own safety to answer the one question that would've saved Mulder's life. I was a coward. And in the years that passed, I always regretted that I didn't take a stand. And that's why I'm doing this now. Saving the world is just a nice bonus. I want to make amends for what I did to Mulder. This time, I'm going to help him. If I die doing it, so be it."

After hearing that, Scully was absolutely speechless. Never before had she heard Marita say so much at once. And it surprised her that she had those feelings at all. Marita appeared to be such a frigid person at first glance. Who knew she had been suffering with this feeling of guilt all these years…

"Well," Scully fumbled around for the words. "I'm sure Mulder appreciates what you're doing for him now. And I now he didn't hold you accountable for the wrong you think you did him."

Marita shrugged as if she didn't care one way or the other.

Scully couldn't help but grin slightly at the woman's indifferent façade. As the Mustang whizzed along the curving mountain roads, she stifled a yawn. She was so sleepy. She tried to fight it, but it was no use. In a matter of seconds, Scully was dead to the world.

And high above, the unfriendly night sky gazed down upon them.

…

Richmond, Virginia

December 20th, 2012

6:12 am

The drive to Richmond should have taken only three hours and an odd number of minutes. Instead, it took twice as long. The mountain roads weren't so bad, but once they came into more heavily populated communities, things quickly went downhill. Empty cars had been left abandoned on the highways, fires raged where gasoline tanks had erupted, and in several places, bridges had been destroyed, forcing Mulder to turn around and take another route.

But three minutes before 6:15, the city came into view at last.

"Would you look at that?" Jim muttered. "It's unreal."

The scope of the devastation was apparent more so here than any other place the two men had seen thus far. The city in the distance was totally ravaged. Only a few buildings remained standing. The blue sky above was pitch black as smoke bellowed from fires that ran unchecked throughout the area. It looked as if someone had dropped an atom bomb on the city.

"There's no way anyone could be alive in all that," Jim said, his voice quivering with what he was seeing. "I guess we came all the way here for nothing."

Mulder turned off the engine and stepped out of the car. The heavy smell of smoke was overwhelming. He had to force himself not to gag. He felt sick to his stomach. And not just from the smoke, but from the fact that they had just traveled who-knew-how-many-miles out of the way for nothing. The city was destroyed. All the roads leading to it were chocked with dead cars. Hundreds upon hundreds of them.

They had reached a dead end.

But he didn't want to obsess over this huge waste of time. It was better to just get back in the car and book it to Mount Weather before…

Wait a minute. What was that?

"Jim, get over here!"

"What is it?" Asked the other man as he obediently climbed out of the car.

"Look at this." Mulder said as he pointed to something on the ground. It was a puddle, glistening in the morning sun on the highway.

"What is it?" Jim asked again.

"I think it might be brake fluid. And look how there's a trail of it leading down that off-ramp over there."

"So?"

"This is new. Recent. The rest of these cars," Mulder swept his hand in the direction of the multitude of cars leading to the city, "have been here for some time. I'm thinking our survivors went for a little ride recently and if we follow the trail, it'll lead us right to them."

Jim thought for a moment. "But how do you know it's _our_ folks? What if those Black Oil people were using a car to get around the city?"

"We don't," Mulder answered. He turned from the other man and began walking down the off-ramp, following the trail of brake-fluid. "But it's all we have right now."

Sighing, Jim followed Mulder. Mulder kept his eyes on the bread crumbs while Jim was on the lookout for any suspicious activity. They must've walked for at least a good half hour before the mysterious fluid trail led anywhere. And where it led to was a huge Costco shopping warehouse on the outskirts of the city.

"Well, here's the source of the leak." Mulder pointed to a transfer truck with the word "Costco" written on its side in large red letters. And sure enough, underneath the vehicle, was a huge puddle.

There were two enormous entrances at the front of the building. The word "Entrance" was written over one and "Exit" over the other. But getting in that way was a no go. The metal shutters were closed. But there had to be another way in.

Mulder walked around the side of the warehouse and to his great pleasure found a door tucked into a corner. The sign next to it decreed that it was the door to the pharmacy section. Now if it could only be unlocked. _Please be unlocked. Please be unlocked._

It was.

He motioned for Jim to follow him and together, they entered the warehouse. Immediately, faint voices could be heard drifting to them from the back of the building. Mulder put a finger to lips, signaling to Jim that they should move in quietly. He didn't think the voices belong to Oil victims, they didn't seem to talk much, but he didn't want to frighten any survivors.

Thump. Thump. Thump. His heart was beating so hard in his chest he thought it might explode. He was about to come into contact with a brand-new group of people. For the past several months, he had been confined in a small house in the mountains, seeing the same faces day after day. The idea of meeting new people was both a welcomed experience and a frightening one. What if they were crazed? What if they had resorted to cannibalism due to a food shortage? Worse yet, what if they refused to travel to Mount Weather after he had explained everything? What then?

All of a sudden, Jim grabbed Mulder's arm. "Did you hear that?" He whispered.

"What?"

"I don't know. Sounded like a clicking noise…"

_BAM!_

Gunshots! Mulder hit the floor instinctively and took Jim with him on the way down. The two of them landed hard on the floor. The shock from hitting the solid concrete caused Mulder to bite down hard on his tongue. Blood rushed from the wound, but he paid it no mind. A man was standing before them, gun in hand, and judging by the crazed look in his eyes, more serious injuries were soon to come.

"Oilers!" The man screeched. "Alfeo, get over here!"

Another man appeared from behind a camera display. He was dark skinned, tall, and wore a baggy Chicago Bulls basketball jersey. The letters and numbers "MS 13" were tattooed in decorative script fount all the way around his neck. And in both of his hands, he carried pistols.

"Oh, man! Go warn the others!" The second man, Alfeo, ordered the first.

The other man spun on his heels and ran to the back of the building. Meanwhile, Mulder had arisen to his knees. With both hands in the air, he kept his eyes trained on Alfeo. "Look, I'm not an Oiler," he said slowly. It seemed that even the slightest slip of the tongue might send the gunman over the edge. "My friend and I came here looking for survivors." And then again for clarification: "I'm not an Oiler."

At first, Alfeo didn't seem to be getting the message, But after a while, he stuffed the gun he was wielding with his left hand into his oversized jeans and took out a tiny penlight from the pockets. "Hold still," he demanded. "Make a sudden movement, and I'll blow your brains out." He then proceeded to shine the light into Mulder's eyes. First the right one, and then after an eternity of blinding radiance, the left. Once that was finished, Jim got the same treatment.

"They're clean!" He called out as he turned off the tiny light. And without saying anything to either Mulder or Jim, he turned and walked toward the back.

Mulder supposed this was an invitation to follow, and did so. And he was led to the frozen foods section – where about twenty-five people had gathered together, each with a look of terror etched on their stone like faces.

"Are they-" The first man who had shot at them stood off by himself, still holding his gun for dear life. But now that he wasn't pointing it at him, Mulder could get a closer look at his attacker. First off, he wasn't a man at all. He was just a kid. No older than 18. He had long golden blonde hair that, for the moment, was tied back in a ponytail. And he was wearing a blue sweater that looked about five sizes too big for him.

"Relax, Elijah," replied Alfeo. "They're okay."

Mulder looked at the ragtag group of survivors. The Elijah kid seemed to be the youngest and the oldest (a bald man with a bushy sandy-colored mustache) appeared to be in his mid fifties. It seemed evenly split between men and women and the total number of survivors stood at 26. That was a little disappointing. The guy on the radio had made it sound like there were hundreds of people, but still, 26 was a huge number by "post-infection" standards.

All eyes were focused on Mulder, so he figured it was time to handle the introductions. "I'm sorry if I alarmed you, but my name is Fox Mulder and this is Jim Van de Kamp. We were looking for survivors." Nobody said anything. "Are you guys it?"

The man with the mustache moved forward. "Yeah. We're the total population of Richmond. The name's Bryce."

He offered his hand and Mulder shook it. "Mulder."

"Yeah, I heard ya the first time." He moved on to Jim and shook his hand as well. "So, are you gents planning to staying with us? You're welcome to, but we might have to move on pretty soon. The fire in the city's movin' this direction."

"We were actually hoping you'd come with us," Jim said. "Have you noticed the black-eyed zombie people wondering around?"

Bryce feigned a look of mock surprise. "Gee, you know, I _haven't_! Me and the rest of these folks here were so caught up in the free Costco samples that, gosh, we just have no clue what's going on." He rolled his eyes dramatically. "Of course, I've noticed them. They're called 'Oilers' on account of the Oil they use to infect everyone."

"It was a government bio-weapon gone wrong," a woman with blue-streaked hair chirped up knowingly.

The woman's remark was a perfect opening for Mulder. "Well, I have information about how to put a stop to it." And from there, he went on and told them all about the secret government lodged at Mount Weather and how they had been the ones responsible for unleashing the Black Oil upon the world. He conveniently forgot to mention anything about aliens. If they decided to go with him, he would bring it up in good time. He just didn't want to freak them out anymore than was necessary.

Blue-streak woman swore. "I knew it! I knew the government would be the death of us all one day! Democracy! HA! What a joke!"

Bryce was more levelheaded. "How do you know all this?"

"I was an FBI agent," Mulder said, conveniently forgetting to add the part where he lost his job when he had come back from the dead after his abduction. "And I've come all this way to enlist your help in fighting the men who did this. If we can get together and take them out, it would put a stop to all this."

Bryce was looking at him like he was crazy. "You want us to attack a military instillation? Are you nuts?! None of us have any combat training! I mean, I was in the Coast Guard and went to Vietnam, but that was 40 years ago!" The stocky man stroked his mustache in frustration. "And even if we do this, what makes you think it'll put an end to the Oilers? I'm sorry, but I can't."

No. This wasn't happening. He did not just say no. Mulder had traveled too far for him to say no. Too much was at stake for him to say no.

Mulder's heart thudded wildly in his chest. The other guy was still talking, but he couldn't hear of a word. Excuses. Here the fate of the world was hanging in the balance, and this guy was blabbering on and on about how he had a responsibility to the other 25 people under his care and couldn't put them in danger.

"I can't believe this!" Mulder cried out, interrupting Bryce's apologies. "Did you hear a single word I just said?! Listen to me: If we do this, we can put a stop to all the madness! You don't even have a choice anymore! Things are going to get worse, a whole _lot_ worse, in a few days and the only way to prevent it is to go up to Mount Weather and storm it! Buck up and be a man!"

Twenty-six frightened eyes starred back at Mulder, unblinking. It was then that he knew he had blown it. There was no way they were going to follow him now. He sounded like a raving lunatic. But didn't he have a right to? In a little more than 48 hours, the entire human race was going to become extinct! He had every reason to be just a little on edge.

Jim took a tiny step forward. "I know this all sounds crazy. I admit it. You may think the idea of attacking a military base is suicide, and it very well may be. But there's a chance to put an end to all this! How long have you been in hiding here, afraid to step out in the daylight? Wouldn't you do anything to ease that fear? I know it sounds scary – going head to head with whatever's at this Mount Weather place. But that's okay. It's okay that you all haven't had combat training. Heck, I'm just a dairy farmer from Wyoming, and I'm scared – more scared than I've ever been in my entire life – but I'm ready to do anything if it means I can live in peace again with my wife and my kid." He gestured to Mulder. "We both have loved ones out there and that's why we're doing this. So that all these Black Oil people and the destruction and the death will just go away. Think about it."

And with that, Jim (the simple dairy farmer from Wyoming, who, in his wildest boyhood fantasies never imagined himself saving the world from an evil alien race) took a step back and lowered his head.

The 26 survivors also had their heads lowered, as if they were ashamed for being so cowardly. Maybe Jim's impromptu little talk had gotten them to thinking.

Bryce sighed. "Look, you've got a point, but-"

Any other words were cut off as the warehouse was rocked by a thundering _whamming_ noise.

Alfeo, the Chicago Bulls-loving gang member, jumped about ten feet in the air. "The Oilers! They've found us! They're ramming the shutters!" He took Bryce roughly by the shirt collar. "We've gotta get out of here!"

The others jumped to their feet and ran, en masse, to the pharmacy-door that Mulder and Jim had used to gain access to the hideout. Some were crying in fear, others were patting their chests as if they were about to keel over from a heart attack, but most looked too stunned to do much of anything besides run.

Mulder and Jim ran behind the crowd and out into the parking lot. The transfer truck's trailer doors were wide open as people rushed inside. And from his vantage point, Mulder could see that the truck was full of guns. Pistols, semi-automatics, rifles, shotguns. It was clear these people had been prepared to fight for their safe haven. But they weren't planning on fighting now. They were more interested in running. A good idea, too, because a hundred Oilers could be seen pounding on the entrance and exit shutters at the front of the building.

One of the Oilers, a woman wearing a leopard print miniskirt, stopped her relentless beating and swiveled her head in Mulder's direction. The others behind her followed suit, turning as one toward the fleeing survivors. Without any verbal communication, the 200-plus infected city-dwellers charged at the 28 non-viral escapees.

"Come on!"

The truck's trailer doors were closed now and Bryce had positioned himself in the driver's seat. He reached down and turned a key in the ignition and the vehicle roared to life, spewing a short black plume of smoke into the air.

Jim ran around the front of the truck, Mulder following behind, and took the middle seat. Mulder plopped down next to him and slammed his door shut.

"Hang on," Bryce mumbled.

The truck rocketed forward through the parking lot, not slowing down for anything. A speed bump loomed ahead and they took it going nearly full speed. The three men in the cockpit were thrown around violently and a series of crashes could be heard coming from inside the trailer as the unrestrained people inside were tossed this way and that. But Mulder wasn't about to tell Bryce to slow it down. The side-mirror outside his door reflected the horde of Oilers rushing toward them like a human tidal wave. They were so close! And the fact that written near the bottom of the mirror were the words "Objects in Mirror Are Closer Than They Appear" didn't ease Mulder's mind any.

A sharp left turn up ahead.

Bryce took it without taking his foot of the gas pedal. The 18-wheeler's tires squealed as it tried to obey its master's command. The front end of the tractor-trailer went left and the back end went right. The inertia in the cockpit shifted suddenly, causing anything that wasn't tied down to go sailing through the air.

"We're gonna flip!" Jim cried out.

Bryce bit down on his lip and forced the wheel even more to the left. Amazingly, all 18 wheels remained on the ground as the vehicle blundered through the turn and onto a straight stretch of highway.

"We made it!" Exclaimed Bryce joyfully, pumping his fist in the air. "We lost 'em!"

But his joy was short lived as thousands more Oilers appeared in front of them. Men, women, young, old, black, white – all united in the quest to infect. This group was an entirely different one that had attacked them in the Costco parking lot. But that wasn't surprising. The Black Oil was omnipresent. It was one entity that could be split millions upon millions of times. If one Oiler discovered a group of survivors, they all knew it.

The sudden appearance of them, a thousand strong and blocking the road ahead, caused Bryce to temporarily take his foot off the gas and stare blankly ahead. "God help us. There's no way. No way."

"Just go," Mulder said.

"But-"

The Oilers ahead began to run forward.

"JUST GO!"

The gas pedal was floored as the tractor-trailer plowed through the army of the infected. The sound of crunching could be heard as the heavy wheels rolled over bones, crushing them.

If they had been in a normal car, so even an SVU, the Oilers could have easily taken them. But as it was, the truck was so high up off the ground that most of the deranged attackers couldn't do more than fall helplessly beneath the wheels.

But suddenly, just as it looked as if they were home free, two Oilers hoisted themselves up onto the front of semi. One, a beer-bellied man wearing a KISS T-Shirt crawled forward and pressed himself against the windshield. The other, a teenage girl clad in a High School letter jacket, threw herself at the driver's side door. She gained footing due to the small ledge beneath the door and proceeded to try and rip the door from its hinges.

"I can't see!!" Bryce screamed, his vision focused on the man blocking his view of the road, and not of the girl doing her best to shatter the glass in the driver's side door.

_If only we had a weapon!_

No sooner had that thought flashed through Mulder's mind when he felt something hard against his foot. Looking down, he saw it was a sawed-off shotgun lying in the floorboard. He bent, grabbed it and pumped it once.

"Get down!" Mulder yelled at Bryce.

The man's eyes bulged from their sockets when he the piece in Mulder's hand and bent at the waist without knowing why.

The ex-FBI agent pressed the shotgun against the window of the driver's side door and pulled the trigger. A deafening explosion, an explosion of glass, and the girl went tumbling to the ground outside. She hadn't been killed, Black Oil victims couldn't be taken care of _that_ easily, but the blast from the shotgun had enough force to send her flying backward and off the truck.

But it wasn't over yet. Jim grabbed onto Mulder's arm and pointed to the windshield. "Do something!!!"

The KISS fan punched through the thick glass with superhuman strength. With one hand, he grabbed a fistful of Mulder's shirt and pulled him close, his eyes dripping black.

Jim came to the rescue, bending the man's fingers back, thereby releasing Mulder from the death grip.

The black liquid began to roll down the man's cheeks. If it splashed down onto the truck's hood, there would be no stopping it if it slithered into the truck itself. No time to waste. Mulder pumped the shotgun once more and leveled it at the man's face and fired.

A flash of light illuminated everything for one brief instant. When it faded, the man was still there, his face peppered with shrapnel and cut, but otherwise unharmed.

The Black Oil was hanging off his chin by now, shimmering and shaking, preparing to drip down.

Mulder raised himself from his seat and put his upper body through the broken windshield. He brought the shotgun down hard on the man's upper arm. The arm went slack for an instant as the jolt vibrated through it and the Oiler's grip on the truck was loosened.

Another pump, another shot, and Mr. KISS went rolling off the side.

There was no time for celebration. The rest of he Oilers were still right behind them. But there was a good chance they'd make it. Up ahead, the roads were clear of any hazards. And as they left the burning city of Richmond behind them, Mulder couldn't help but smile with relief. He had a good feeling that Mount Weather was going to be their next destination.

…

The Virginian Mountains

9: 37 am

Concentrate.

William rested his chin upon his folded hands and stared, unblinking, at the quarter that rested on the chipped kitchen table.

It was just an ordinary quarter. Worth 25 cents (in the old world, at least), with the profile of George Washington facing upward and the words "In God We Trust" etched off to the side. William studied its dimensions carefully. It was thin, barely an inch in diameter. Easy to move.

_Okay. Take a deep breath,_ he thought to himself. _This is easy. Just concentrate_.

And then, just when he thought he couldn't keep from blinking a moment longer, he felt the coin inside his brain. It was like he made contact with it. There was no other way to explain it.

_Up, _William commanded.

Suddenly, to his surprise, the coin lifted off the table and rose about three feet in the air.

It was all he could do to keep from bursting out laughing. This was so cool!

_Turn over._

Sure enough, the quarter flipped on its side.

_Figure eight._

The coin complied. It flew through the air gracefully, making an arch once, zooming diagonal and, just before reaching its zenith, making another arch and repeating the whole process all over again.

"Mom! Look at this!"

Debbie was over by the corner. She had found a broom and was sweeping up a storm – something she always did when she was particularly anxious. In fact, she had been cleaning the same spot for the past 45 minutes. But when she heard her son call her, she stopped what she was doing and looked up.

"I can control it!' William called out with pride as he pointed to the flying quarter. "Isn't it cool?"

"Very nice," Debbie replied shakily. She put a hand on William's shoulder. "Honey, stop, okay? I don't like you doing that."

Heaving an overly dramatic sigh, William released all control over the coin and it crashed down on the table with a _ping_ noise.

He watched his mom continue on with her nervous sweeping, a feeling of annoyance rising. He hated that he felt that way, but nobody understood him! Everyone was trying to protect him when, in reality, he should be the one protecting _them_! He had incredible powers. Telekinesis was just the tip of the iceberg. So why did everyone insist on treating him like a child?

_Maybe because I am one_, William thought sadly. _And maybe because they love me._

But knowing that didn't make waiting any easier. If only he could be out there – gathering up survivors with his dad and Mulder (who was his dad too) or surveying Mount Weather with Dana and Marita. So what if he was a child? He was brave and more than willing to do anything necessary to save the world.

Hmp. William sighed once again and stared at the coin that rested on the table. He let his mind wonder, regretting the fact that he was so young. If only he were older, maybe then everyone would take him more seriously.

As he let his thoughts run free, he noticed the room getting darker. A cloud had probably passed over the sun or something. But then the sound of his mom's sweeping drew more and more distant. Before long, the entire kitchen area was pitch dark. No light, no sound.

He wanted to call out for his mother, but the darkness terrified him so, he was afraid to speak.

But then, off in the distance, two orange orbs of light appeared high off the group. The glow became brighter and brighter until it could be plainly seen that the source of the lights were two torches, jobbed into the ground. The crackling fire atop the torches illuminated a figure standing between them. It was a woman. She had dark features. Deep brown eyes and gorgeous wavy black hair that framed her heart-shaped face perfectly. She would have been beautiful, had her features not been twisted in a hideous mask of hateful laughter.

"ha ha ha."

The sound of her laughter was very soft and hardly audible.

The woman's demonic grin grew as she raised her hands up above her head.

"Ha ha ha."

And then something else came into the picture. Two poles, one on each side of the laughing woman.

"Ha ha ha!"

The fire's light grew and snaked up the two poles. There were bodies atop them, skewered like in some horrible modern-day reenactment of a medieval battlefield.

"Ha ha ha!!"

The bodies came into greater focus and …

William screamed. He recognized the two impaled corpses. One was Mulder, his mouth open in a silent scream. The other, Ms. Dana, her once-sparkling blue eyes had rolled up inside her head and her face indicated that she had been killed in a surprise ambush of some sort.

The woman on the ground was laughing harder than ever. Her head was tossed back and her hair flew wildly about. "HA HA HA!!!!!"

William squeezed his eyes shut and screamed. He screamed as he had never screamed before. He went on for what seemed like an eternity, his lungs feeling as though they would burst with the effort.

"Will? Will!"

His eyes popped open. And there was Debbie, kneeling in front of him. She had both her hands clasped against her chest and her face was sick with worry. "Will, are you okay, sweetheart? You were screaming!"

The laughing woman was gone. The torches were gone. The bodies … the bodies were gone as well. But the feeling of complete dread wasn't.

"I had a vision," William said. "A premonition." He arose from his seat and walked toward the front of the house. "They're in danger. I've got to help them."

"Who?" Debbie asked quizzically. "Honey, what are you talking about?"

"Mulder and Ms. Dana! They're heading into a trap or something! I don't know what, exactly, but their lives are in danger!" He moved toward the front door and took hold of the doorknob. "I'm going."

Debbie rushed to his side before he could exit. "Oh no, you are not!"

Why was she doing this?! Why was she still babying him when lives were at stake? It was infuriating! "I don't care what you say!" William snapped. "If I don't help them out, they're gonna die!"

He took a deep breath to control his annoyance. "Look, I love you a lot, but I'm going - no matter what you say. Mulder and Ms. Dana have been good to us. They saved us back in Washington; they've looked after us. And… And… And they're my parents, too! Please understand. I have to help them!"

Debbie took William's face in her hands. "_You_ look. I know you have these powers and I know you think you can take care of yourself. But you're my baby and I won't have you dashing off to who-knows-where only to get yourself killed. You're staying right here. Period."

William smiled sadly. "No, Mom, I'm not." And with that, he brushed past his mother of 11 years and began to walk off into the horizon.

He wasn't surprised to hear the door to the house slam shut and then the tiny shuffle of feet as Debbie hurried to catch up with him. "Fine. I'll go with you," she said. "But only so I can keep an eye on you."

William smiled knowingly. "Thanks, Mom."

…

Mount Weather Complex

Bluemont, Virginia

9:45 am

They both had known the complex would be well guarded, but they had no idea just _how_ well.

An electrified fence ran the parameter of the facility. In front of the fence, stood two rows of Oilers, their hands behind their backs and their feet shoulder width apart. On the other side of the fence, was a line of camouflage-clad guards, three rows deep. Further ahead a virtual army of armed guards mixed with Oilers protected the entrance – a tunnel carved from the side of a massive rock.

Scully saw all this from a safe spot, away from the guard's field of vision, amongst the pine trees that grew around the base. She turned to Marita, who was crouched down next to her. "You wouldn't happen to know of an easier what to get in, would you?"

She was being sarcastic, but Marita nodded and got to her feet. "This way," she whispered.

Marita led Scully further and further into the woods and stopped abruptly after walking for about a minute. She pointed to a small brick structure that was about three feet wide and six feet tall. "It's a secret passage used to access the complex's basement levels."

It didn't look like it. It just looked like a crummy old brick outhouse or something. But then again, it was a secret passage, so it was probably meant to look that way. Scully watched as Marita fiddled with a padlock that had been placed on the dented metal door. "If we have any luck, the combination will be the same…"

Thankfully, the fortunes were in their favor and the lock tumbled to the ground after a few twirls of the keypad. "I'll head down first," Marita said. "Stay here until I return." She then entered the tiny shack and closed the door.

Scully frowned. She hated being left alone. It wasn't because she was afraid, it just seemed that Marita didn't trust her enough to stay out of her way. Oh, well. She would return in a few minutes and together they'd wait for Mulder and Jim to arrive with the other survivors. That was, if everything had gone well for them..

She turned her back to the brick shed and looked up into the sky. It was dark. A storm was coming. That was just fine. A raging thunderstorm would just make the ensuing battle all the more cinematic.

Footsteps behind her.

"That was quick," Scully said as she turned. "I didn't even hear the door open."

But it wasn't Marita. It was someone whom she had never thought she'd see again. In fact, the face didn't register for several seconds. It was just so crazy that he's be _here_, of all places.

"Agent Doggett?" She asked in disbelief.

John approached her quickly, making no indication that he had heard. He stopped about three inches away from her and simply stood there.

"Agent Doggett, is that you? What … what are you doing here?"

There was something off in his eyes. They were cold and distant. And he didn't seem to recognize his old partner. He just stood there, not saying a word.

"What's wrong? Why won't you say anything?"

Pain suddenly exploded in her belly. Scully uttered a small gasp and looked down. John had punched his way through her stomach. She felt another eruption of pain as his hand burst through the other side. She heard a small crunching noise and knew that her spine had been snapped in two.

John withdrew his bloody hand and Scully went tumbling to the forest floor. She couldn't feel her feet. Or her legs. Or her entire body, for that matter. Blood. Blood was everywhere. It was gushing from her massive wound, cascading over everything.

She tried to speak, but she couldn't. She tried to move, but couldn't. She… She….

She couldn't feel her heart.

The familiar soft thud, thud, thud in her chest had ceased.

Her vision began to fade. She saw John -who had once been her X-Files partner for a time, and her friend - walk away slowly into the woods.

Why had he done this? Why.. How…

Scully couldn't breathe. Too much effort was needed to inflate her lungs. By now, her sight had gone completely dark.

She was tired. So tired.

She closed her sightless eyes and accepted the grim fate that awaited her.

_I'm coming to be with you, Ahab _Scully pictured her late father as she felt herself slip slowly into the icy waters of death. _Starbuck's here. Starbuck's here…._

And with that final thought, her mind went dark.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Here it was. The day she'd been dreaming of unconsciously since she was a little girl. She didn't want to open her eyes just yet, though. She had four other senses to enjoy first.

She could hear the waves in the distance, crashing upon the shore. Gentle. Soothing. Up above, seagulls squawked in a steady rhythm.

The smell of the sea came to her next; it was sweet, laced with salt. She could also detect the faint scent of daffodils.

She felt the soft, wet sand between her toes and the weight of the small bouquet she was holding. It was simple – just a few yellow daffodils – the source of the pleasurable aroma. And when the wind blew, cool and placid against her skin, she felt her wedding dress flutter in the breeze. It wasn't a gown by any means. It was just a simple white dress. But that was how she wanted things. Simple. The wedding itself was just a prelude. It wasn't important. What was important was the life that came after.

She couldn't _taste_ anything. But she did note that her mouth was extraordinarily dry. Nerves. But there was nothing to be nervous about. Nothing.

Now came the time to open her eyes. Monica did so, and the very first thing she saw was John. He was standing right in front of her, about fifteen feet away. He was dressed in a plain tan-colored linen suit. The only real source of color on him came from a yellow boutonniere he wore pinned close to his face. He was also barefoot.

He had been looking down at the sand, but when the reverend – a puddle of black against the blue sky and sea - tapped him on the shoulder, he looked up and saw his future wife approaching. Instantly, his face went slack and his almost-transparent blue eyes began to shimmer.

Monica smiled to herself as she began to walk forward. Was John going to cry? It looked like it. But he was such a manly man! Then again, it was his wedding day, and weddings had strange effects on people.

She nodded to Skinner, who was standing off to John's left side. He was the only witness to the ceremony. But once gain, that was the way Monica wanted it. Simple. Just an intimate profession of love.

Once she joined the reverend and John, Monica was astounded to see that he _was_ tearing up! She couldn't blame him. This was such a long time coming.

"You look beautiful," he told her.

"You're not too bad yourself," Monica said with a smile.

The reverend opened up his Bible and began the service. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today in the sight of God to witness this man and this woman joined in holy matrimony."

It went on from there, but Monica wasn't listening. She was just thinking how impossible this was. She and John Doggett getting married, after all these years… Who would have thought it? There had been chemistry between them for some time, but John had been too involved with his work to step forward and start up a relationship. But they were destined to be together. Even though he, a stubborn Aries, and she, a friendly Aquarius, weren't the most compatible zodiacs, fate had won out. Besides, astrology wasn't right 100 percent of the time.

"Rings please."

Skinner stepped forward at the reverend's request and produced two silver rings from his pocket and handed one to Monica and one to John.

"Do you, John Doggett, take Monica Reyes to be your lawful wedded wife and will you love, honor and respect her throughout all your years together?"

John's crystalline blue eyes met with her dark ones. "I will," he said seriously as Monica slid his thick, silver wedding band over his left ring finger.

"Do you, Monica Reyes, take John Doggett to be your lawful wedded husband and will you love, honor and respect him throughout all your years together?"

Monica opened her mouth to speak, but she was too choked up to say anything. She fanned herself with that hand that wasn't holding her bouquet and finally uttered an "I will." And her ring, silver with a tiny diamond, was slipped onto her finger.

The reverend nodded as though he were pleased they both agreed, for the heck of it, to go along with the whole marriage thing. "Then by the power invested vested in me by the state of Virginia, I now pronounce you husband and wife."

A smattering of applause and then John moved forward and kissed Monica square on the lips. She returned the kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck. He then shocked her by lifting her up off the ground. With her still in his arms, he began walking toward the hotel.

"Congratulations," Skinner offered as they passed.

"Thank you, sir," John said.

As they left him behind, Monica shouted his name. Skinner turned, and she threw the bouquet of daffodils right at his face. He caught them mid-air as easily if he had been wearing a baseball glove, and starred at them, not fully understanding what had just happened.

At the sight of the Assistant Director's stupefied expression, Monica threw back her head and laughed. So did John.

"Hey, what was with that long pause before you said 'I will'?" Asked John as he carried his wife into the hotel's lobby.

"What long pause?"

"There was a long pause. Right before you said 'I will'."

"There was not!"

"There was! I heard it!" John frowned. "Way to keep me hangin', Monica."

She laughed again pecked him on the cheek. "You imagined it, I'm sure." Then her voice took on a more serious tone. "I love you, you know."

John bobbed his head up and down. "I figured as much."

With one had, he balanced his new wife on his hip and with the other, he opened his hotel room with a keycard from his wallet. Once inside, he sat Monica down on the bed and ran a gentle hand through her hair.

She closed her eyes as he kissed her once again, more passionately this time. This was it. This was the start of a wonderful new life. What did the future hold in store for them as a couple? Who knew? And what did it matter anyway? It was a cliché, but love could stand up to anything. If you had love … well, that was all that really mattered.

Monica opened her eyes. She wanted to see John's face as she told him these things.

But John wasn't there.

The hotel room had vanished. In its place was a dark, dank corridor that smelled of human waste. The bed she had been laying on only moments before had been replaced with a hard wooden bench. And looking down, she saw that she was no longer wearing her simple white wedding dress. An ugly brown, itchy sack had been draped over her shoulders and covered only what needed to be covered.

What was… Where had… John?

Oh. It had only been a dream. Well, not really a dream. More like memories resurfacing. The sad realization was that those days were over. John was.. Was…

Monica shook her head. She couldn't think about that. She had to figure out where she was. The last thing she remembered, the Oilers had broken into the subway and attacked everyone. And she herself had been infected with the virus. She distinctly remembered the black ooze dripping onto her face and the cold, shivering sensation of it crawling up her nose. But if that had been the case, why was she here, in this place? Why wasn't she an Oiler too?

Delores… Savannah…. They were both dead. Shot. Dead. Monica could still see their blood running down the subway platform. Dead.

"WHY?!" Monica slammed her fist hard against the concrete walls of the dark and silent corridor she found herself in. It hurt to do so, but that was good. The physical pain helped relieved the mental variety that was building up inside her head.

She raised her hands to her face, preparing to sob into them, when she stopped. Something was missing. Her wedding ring. That was it. It was gone. They had taken it, along with her clothes. In its place, a thin tan line encircled her left ring finger.

Seeing her ring-less finger, Monica began to whimper. They had stolen something from her. Not just the ring itself – that was a meaningless band of forged silver – but the last physical reminder of John that she had. John was gone now, turned into a soulless Super Solider. And now, she didn't have anything to remember him by. The only thing she had at the moment was her memories, but even those wouldn't last forever. She knew that as she grew older, and as the brain cells began to die off, so would her memories.

She had nothing. Nothing. There was nothing left to live for. John was gone. Even her makeshift family, Juliet and the others… They were gone too.

Monica wrapped her arms around her shivering body and wished she were dead.

A door burst open at the end of the corridor and two men stepped through it and roughly grabbed Monica by the arms. They led her into a circular room. It was windowless; the only light came from a fluorescent lamp over in one corner. Exposed piping and copper tubing was visible running along the walls and the ceiling above. The room was filled with all sorts of machines, machines that would be perfectly at home n Dr. Frankenstein's laboratory.

There were three other people in the room, all dressed from head to toe in white smocks. They wore protective eyewear with reflective lenses, so it was impossible to tell if they were Oilers, Super Soldiers, or just humans in league with the devil. What did it matter either way?

One of the "doctors" held Monica in place while the other stripped her of the sack she was wearing. Once that was done, they led her to an x-shaped table in the middle of the room. The odd table had been covered in white paper padding, but it was covered in disgusting stains. From the smell of things, probably urine.

Monica didn't object as the white-coated men strapped her down upon the table. They buckled her ankles and wrists with heavy leather straps and left her spread-eagle while they moved out of her field of vision to work on something else.

She should have been terrified. Were they going to kill her? By the looks of thing, they were planning to experiment on her. But how? And for what purpose? Monica couldn't care less. She didn't care if she ended up dead after this little torture session. She didn't care if they were planning to turn her into a Super Solider. John was gone. Everyone was gone. What was there to live for? She asked herself that question and honestly couldn't come up with an answer.

A loud humming noise filled the room and instantly, Monica felt a terrible pain emanating from her stomach. She tried to twist her body to alleviate the agony, but the straps prevented her from moving around too much. The humming grew louder and with it, the pain grew more intense. What was going on?

She happened to glance up and saw a tiny hole drilled into the ceiling. A peculiar red glow illuminated from the hole and shinned down upon her helpless body. Was that the source of the pain? Monica didn't have long to ponder this question, because her lower body was rocked by the strongest wave of pain thus far. She bit down on her lip to keep from screaming and at the same time became aware that she had lost control of her bowels.

If only this pain would stop! If they were going to kill her, she wished they would just go ahead and get it over with. She had no reason to live. No reason to… No. Wait. That wasn't right. She thought of John, his smile, his icy blue eyes, the way he always came up with an excuse not to eat her homemade food. And then she thought of what they made him into. A mindless killing-machine. A shell. A husk.

Was she really just going to lie there and let the same people who killed John toy with her? Or was she going to do something about it? What she needed to do was avenge her husband and his memory. She wasn't going to die without a fight! She was going to take them down with her! Even if she had to kill anyone who got in her way. John… She would do whatever it took.

"Let me go!!!" Screamed Monica at the top of her lungs. Now that she had a newfound purpose in life, she felt full of energy and vigor. True, it had been brought on by thoughts of bloodlust, but so be it. "LET ME GO!!!!!"

They didn't, of course. She didn't expect them too. Instead, they disappeared from sight once more and reappeared holding a long tube in their hands. The hose was clear and had to have been connected to some machine in the room, but Monica couldn't see it.

One of the doctors pried open her mouth while another slid the long tube down her throat. She could feel the cold slimy thing as it was shoved further and further down. She wanted to gag, but couldn't. She wanted to breathe, but couldn't. All Monica could do was make short gurgling noises.

_Hisssssss._

What was that sound? It sounded like a machine was being turned on.

Through Monica's half-opened eyes, she saw a strange dark blue liquid course through the tube and down into her throat. She could feel the fluid drip down into her lungs. It was filling them. She couldn't breathe. Everything was getting hazy. She couldn't stay awake…..

Her eyes rolled back and the lids closed shut and when she opened them next, she was outside.

The ground beneath her was soft and muddy. Up above, she could hear the distant rumblings of thunder.

"Okay, okay. Give her some room, everybody."

Monica rolled over on one side and found herself surrounded by women, all wearing the same ugly brown sacks. Each one looked like death warmed over. They were clearly sick as well, for they were nothing but skin and bones. Their eyes were sunk deep into their sockets and it looked like clumps of hair had begun to fall out. Whatever had happened to them couldn't have come at a worse time, because several of them were pregnant. In fact, it seemed that _all_ of them were pregnant…

"Hey, there. How you feeling?" A rail-thin black woman approached Monica and offered her a kind smile.

Monica got to her knees and took a look around. She was dressed again and had been placed inside some kind of open-air tent. The tent itself was in some kind of dirty courtyard. Several one-story stone buildings were scattered around and a twenty-foot gray cement wall encircled everything, barbed wire running along its top to dissuade any would-be escapees from climbing over it.

She tried to speak, but her stomach heaved in a terrible forward motion and she vomited upon the ground

The black woman raced to her side and patted her on the back. "There, there," she said in a motherly tone. "You're sick. It's 'cause of the treatments."

Monica placed a hand over her mouth. She felt weak. Weaker than she had ever felt in her life. And her stomach was hurting. "Treatments?" She murmured. "What do you mean?"

A nurturing smile ran across the woman's lips. "Just rest for now. We can talk later."

"No," Monica shook her head as best she could. "I need to know what's going on. Where am I? The last thing I remember, an Oiler attacked me. I was infected with the virus, so how am I here?"

The women in the group exchanged worried looks with one another and split up, leaving Monica and the other woman alone together.

"First things first. My name's Rosa."

Monica offered her name and once gain asked for any information her companion could give.

"Well, I don't know much. We piece together most of what we know from other sources." Rosa sighed and looked into the sky. It was dark with black smoke-like clouds that blotted out the sun. "You say you were infected with that black stuff, right? Well, that stuff's called 'Purity'. Apparently, it's been around for some time and now there's this new strain that weeds out all the people who aren't fit for doing what we do."

"What do you mean? What _do_ we do? Weeds out? I don't understand."

"Well… This place, where we are now, it's a… a…" Rosa swallowed loudly, her throat making a clicking noise. "It's a birthing center." She frowned. "We give birth to alien babies."

What? What did she just say?! Monica's eyes grew wide with terror. Alien babies? She looked around wildly and saw nothing but women. Women whose bellies were large with child. They were just walked around the courtyard, barefoot. Some of them had formed small groups and were talking, but most were sitting up against the cold gray buildings, twiddling their thumbs.

The fact that Monica was here, in this "birthing center" could only mean one thing. Those doctors were planning to impregnate her as well! But for what purpose? That didn't matter. Nothing mattered except escaping before those butchers could do their dirty work.

Getting up on her feet, Monica felt a little shaky. She looked down to steady herself. And that's when she saw it.

A tiny bump underneath the sack she was wearing.

In a frenzy, she pulled the thing up to her chest, not caring a whit about modesty. What she saw broke her already shaky hold on sanity. Her stomach was bulging outward, round and plump. Could it be that she, too, was….

No. No, it couldn't be? Just a moment ago, she was fine! Even if she were pregnant, which she wasn't, but if she were – she wouldn't be showing so soon! What was going on?! _What had happened to her?!?!_

Monica pointed to her baby bump and moved her mouth around, trying to make words. Was it working? She couldn't tell. Everything was messed up. "I… This… How…"

Rosa could sense that this new girl was on the brink of a breakdown. With expert swiftness, she moved to Monica's trembling side and gently pulled her close into a loving embrace. "Honey, just relax. Don't think about it now. Just breathe. In and out."

In and out. Yes. That made things better. Monica followed the woman's advice and focused on her breathing. Every now and then, the hideous realization that she was pregnant – with an alien life form – surged into focus, but she pushed it back. She couldn't deal with that now. For now, it wasn't an issue. It didn't exist.

But she still wanted to know what had happened. She thought she deserved that much. Once Monica had regained control of herself a bit, she implored the kind-hearted woman in front of her to tell all she knew.

"If you really think you can handle it…." Rosa began. She sounded unsure. "Well, as I've come to understand it, there are very few women out there who are …. what's the word? Um… _genetically_ able to give birth to these babies. One in, like, three million. So this Purity virus, or whatever it is, infects the population. It also infects that special one-in-three-million person, but it has no effect on that one. That's how we were all found." She paused. "Get it?"

Monica nodded. She didn't get it, but she had a feeling she would, living in this place. This _birthing center_. Even the name sounded horrible. They were taking a perfectly natural event in life – the happiest event in a woman's life – and were contorting it into a vile perversion to serve their own evil agenda.

"This is my thirteenth time giving birth," Rosa said as she patted her enormous belly. "I'd like to tell you it gets easier with each one, but it doesn't. And I should know. I've been here since almost from the beginning. See?" She faced away from Monica and brushed her dirty, matted hair away from her neck. There, beneath a two-inch pink scar, the number "12", in block lettering was tattooed in purple ink.

"I was the twelfth one they found," she said almost proudly.

"And you've already had thirteen pregnancies?" Asked Monica in disbelief.

"How is that possible?"

"Oh, they speed it up with radiation treatments. That's what you just got through with, yourself. I expect you'll be delivering in another couple of weeks."

Unreal. Monica had always wanted children, but not this way. Come to think of it, calling the thing inside her a "child" was a gross injustice to all mankind. It was an alien. And not just that. It was a monster. An abomination.

"After the delivery, they put 'em in that building," Rosa said, nodding toward a sad, gray, windowless structure to the north. "The alien babies, I mean. They keep 'em locked up in the basement, but you can hear 'em crying out sometimes. Especially at night. You'll be trying to sleep, and all of a sudden, you'll hear this inhuman wail coming from there." She shivered. "It's frightening."

In her mind's eye, Monica pictured the courtyard area at night. The moon high above, and a thick fog choking the bases of the stone buildings where the inmates slept. The vision was almost peaceful until the realization came that something unnatural was locked away, out of sight, in the basement of one of the buildings.

"After this one, I won't be of any more use to them," Rosa said. She sounded glad that she finally had somebody new to talk to. She was happy that she had the chance to unburden herself – express in words the horror of the freakish experiments preformed on her day in and day out. "After about thirteen births, the body just wears out. And if you can't give birth, you're useless. The eleven before me found that out the hard way. They were executed. Injected with something. Must've hurt, 'cause they screamed something terrible." Her voice took on a robotic quality. "They're buried in the mass grave next to the mess hall. I'll be joining 'em soon."

Monica didn't say a word. She couldn't. That mass grave she spoke of, that was Monica's future too if she didn't alter it soon.

Rosa took a deep breath and patted her stomach once more, a faux smile on her face. "It's not so bad knowing you're gonna die. We all have to at some point. You learn to make your peace with it. You accept it."

"I'm not."

A look of confusion crossed over the black woman's emaciated face. Monica returned the look, unaware that she had spoken out loud.

"You're not what?" Asked Rosa.

Monica looked down at her feet. They were red and caked with mud. "I'm not going to die in here. I have something to do first."

"What?"

"Revenge. They… They killed my husband." That wasn't entirely true, of course. John was technically still alive. But only in body. His mind and soul were gone. And those were the only things that mattered. His body, his lifeless body, had been turned into a living war machine. "They killed him, so I'm going to kill them. That's my goal in my new life. After that, whatever happens happens. I don't care."

The talkative Rosa had nothing to say to that. Perhaps she thought it wasn't her place to judge the motives of others in this crazy new world. A world where aliens were real and ordinary women found themselves tools in a grander scheme than any of them could ever realize.

So the two women sat in silence. Rosa didn't know what to say, and Monica's mind was filled with thoughts of John.

The short blare of a car horn interrupted those thoughts. Monica watched as two gigantic gates swung open and a black truck came cruising through the opening and into the courtyard. Beside her, Rosa was saying something about "new arrivals", but Monica wasn't paying any attention. The gate was still wide open, and beyond it laid freedom.

This was it. This was her chance. There was no telling how long the gate would stay open, so she had to act quickly. Monica arose to her feet and took hurtled toward the opening; all too aware of the extra weight she was carrying in her front.

Up ahead, the glorious gateway to freedom remained open. Was it possible no one saw her running toward it? Why wasn't anybody trying to stop her? But what did it matter? She was free! Free! She had made it through!

But as soon as Monica's foot touched the soil beyond the compound, she was knocked to the ground with pain. Such pain! It felt as if someone had rammed a red-hot poker through her neck. It overloaded her nerve endings and sent them on full alert. She felt bile rise in her throat and was unable to stop from vomiting once again. Her vision went fuzzy as her brain seemed to fry.

Armed guards appeared and lifted her up by the armpits and tossed her like a rag doll back into the courtyard. Rosa rushed to her side. She was talking hurriedly and urgently. But Monica could only make out every other word. Her head was roaring. She was saying something about a computer chip in the neck, something about escape and how she should "never do that again."

She wouldn't. Because already, those gates were being closed. With a loud rusty _squeak_, her only chance of freedom was cut off.

"Looks like a storm's comin'." Rosa said as the thunderous clouds rumbled above.

A storm _was_ coming. Yes indeed.

…

Pine. She could smell it. Rich and heavy, that scent invaded the darkness she found herself in. Such a nice smell. What she wouldn't give to just lie there forever, in the swirling dusk, smelling those invisible pines.

Then a voice, far away, cracked through the silence. "-ana."

Who? Who was calling her?

"Dana."

Who was disturbing her from this peaceful slumber?

"Dana!"

And just like that, the beautiful delicate peacefulness was gone. Scully opened her tired eyes to see Marita hovering over her. The icy blue eyes of the other woman were saucers.

"Dana, you're alive!"

Scully put a hand to her head. She had a slight headache. "Yeah. Yeah, I must've dozed off or something."

Marita let out something that was part laugh, part sigh. "Dozed off? You were attacked. Don't you remember?" She moved toward Scully and lifted her shirt out of her pants, where it had been tucked. It was just an ordinary shirt. Button-down, the style Scully liked best. But as one looked down further, a few droplets of blood came into view, splattered on the fabric. But that wasn't all. The entire bottom of it was absolutely soaked in blood. The red liquid was still fresh, and it glistened in the faint light of the stormy day.

"I thought you had lost too much blood to survive."

Attacked? Lost too much blood? What was she talking about? Scully tenderly patted her blood-drenched shirt. It was still warm. It was blood. Her blood! Scully knew from her years as a medical doctor that Marita's assumption had been right. She had lost too much blood to have survived. But how could that be? And what had happened to her?

John. Agent Doggett. He had attacked her. Only he hadn't been himself. His superhuman strength, the blank emotionless face… Scully knew without a doubt that her friend had been transformed into a Super Solider.

She cursed. This was just another evil act that would go down in the Syndicate's books. They didn't care that John Doggett was a … _had been_ one of the greatest FBI agents in the history of the Bureau. They didn't give a toss that his only child had been taken from him and murdered. The fact that he had joined the Marine Corps at 19 was of no importance to them. What the Syndicate had seen when they looked at John was just another means to an end. They couldn't worry about emotions and feelings. Those things got in the way.

_I'll make them pay, John, _Scully swore a silent oath. _I'll take them down if it's the last thing I do._

Scully got to her feet and leaned against one of the numerous pine trees. She remembered everything now. She could actually still feel Doggett's hand bursting through her abdomen and out the other side. Her spine had snapped in two! Her heart had stopped beating! She had felt death upon her! And yet, here she was, her heart still pumping blood, her spine intact – she was very much alive. But how?! The blood loss … it was too much! She should have died, but didn't.

_Wait._

A cold wind blew through the forest, the first truly cold wind of the 2012 winter season. And it brought with it a startling realization.

_Should have died, but didn't…._

There was a word for that: Immortality.

It was a crazy idea. A fool's notion. But Scully herself had investigated a case of immortality once. A man by the name of Alfred Fellig claimed he could sense when people were about to die. He would take their pictures as they lay dying, hoping to take a picture of Death itself. Fellig had confessed to Scully that the reason he did what he did was to catch up with Death. You see, he was over 149 years old.

His story had been beyond belief. Too crazy to be true. New York had been caught in a Yellow Fever epidemic, and Fellig (who had gone by another name back then) had been sick with the disease. According to him, Death had come for him, but he looked away and it had taken someone else in his place. Since then, he claimed that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't die. Death had forsaken him.

But he did die. During Scully's investigation. She couldn't remember the details of the incident, for she had been accidentally shot by her temporary partner. She and Fellig had been arguing when her partner burst into the room and shot the photographer. The bullet hit its target, but went in one side and out the other, hitting Scully in the process.

She had been near death. So close. But then, Fellig then asked her if she could see Death. Scully couldn't recall whether she had nodded or what, but the next thing she knew, Fellig told her to "look away". And as she closed her eyes, she felt the strength return to her body, while beside her, Fellig died.

Crazy. If it were so simple to cheat death, by just "looking away", why weren't more people doing it? Unless…. Unless immortality had to be given away like a gift. The nurse at the hospital during the Yellow Fever epidemic had taken Fellig's place, and later, 200 _years_ later, he had taken Scully's.

It all made sense now. Why she hadn't aged a day since that encounter. Why she still looked 35 instead of 48, her real age. She …. She couldn't age. Just as she couldn't die now.

And with that knowledge, something else fell into place as well. Years before the Fellig case, she and Mulder investigated a series of fortune-teller murders. While on the case, they enlisted the aide of a man, Clyde Bruckman, who claimed to be able to see _how_ a person was going to die. One night, Scully's curiosity got the better of her and she asked Bruckman how she was going to die.

He had replied, with a smile, "You don't."

At the time, she had taken that to mean, "You don't want to know." But now, everything made sense. She was immortal herself now. That day in Fellig's apartment, that day had been Scully's assigned date to die. And now that she had missed it, Death had no interest in her anymore.

It was fascinating. And more than a little frightening. If she was truly unable to die, what would that mean for her down the road when everyone around her had already passed on? This was a pressing question, and she needed time to think about it, but the world was on a tight timetable. Right now, a job needed to be done. Scully felt the cold weight of the alien ice-pick in her pant's pocket and an idea came to mind.

"Dana?" Marita asked. "What is it? What is going on?"

"Everything's fine," Scully answered. "But I want you to listen to me. I have a plan." And she spent the next few minutes elaborating on it.

"It's risky," Marita said after she heard it. "You'll end up getting yourself killed."

Scully had to stifle a laugh. "Trust me. That's all I ask."

"What you're planning to do – it's not wise."

"I know it's not. But I have a feeling it'll work. Just let me do this. Trust me like you'd trust Mulder."

At the mention of Mulder's name, Marita hung her head in shame. "Alright. Fine. Just… Just be careful."

Nodding her thanks, Scully climbed down the steep wooded hill and began walking toward the gates of the Mount Weather complex. To say that she was nervous would be a gross understatement. She knew she couldn't die, but that didn't stop her knees from knocking together with each step forward. But there was so much more at stake here. Her life was not important. If she failed here, then the entire world, no, the _universe_ was doomed. Pressure, in other words.

The gates came into view ahead, along with the army guarding them. This was it. Scully looked down at the blood on her shirt. Bright red. Perfect. She twisted her face into a mask of agony and stretched one arm out in front of her and the other clutching at her "wound" – which, in reality, had healed itself to a soft pink scar.

She moaned loudly as she approached the entrance. "Ooooh! I… I… help me! Ahhh!!"

Maybe she was overdoing it a tad, but she had to make it believable. The guards had to believe she was dying so they'd take her to the Syndicate leader.

At the sounds of Scully's "death cries", the guards, Oilers, and Super Soldiers up ahead snapped to attention. Perfect.

"Please," Scully breathed. "I.. I need h-help!"

A man in a camo uniform pumped his weapon into the air. "Intruder! Shot to kill!"

What? This wasn't part of the plan!

Bullets tore through the air and ripped into Scully's body as easily as if she were made of paper. With each _ratt-at-tatt-tatt, _her body became more and more riddled with wounds. After the third round, she was knocked off her feet and fell into a pool of her own blood.

It hurt. It hurt worse than anything she had ever experienced, but she was still alive. Behind her, she could hear the soldiers approaching. Playing dead, she closed her eyes.

"Oh, man! Do you recognize who that is?!" Exclaimed a thick voice. "That's Dana Scully!"

"Wasn't one of the Super Soldiers supposed to take her out?" Asked another guard.

"I don't know. Let's just take her to the boss."

"She's dead."

"I know, but Ms. Lola wanted the body."

"And what she wants, she gets."

And with that, one of the men picked the torn and tattered Dana Scully from the ground and slung her over his shoulder. Since her eyes were shut, other senses kicked into high gear to compensate.

She could hear the guard talking into a walkie-talkie, ordering the tunnel gate to be open. And there was the loud rolling noise and the vibrating that accompanied it that signaled the opening process. They walked through the tunnel, going deeper and deeper underground, judging by the cool feel of the air. Then came the _clak, clak, clak_ of footsteps on tile flooring.

"We have a delivery for Ms. Lola," said the guard.

"I'll alert her," came another voice from somewhere off to the left.

A few moments passed and then another voice spoke up, powerful and with a hint of an accent. "Ah! Is this who I think it is?"

"Yes, ma'am. We have every reason to believe it's Dana Scully."

"Excellent. Follow me." And then the sound of footsteps leading away.

Now or never.

Scully made a sudden kicking motion and flung herself off the guard's shoulder. With a swiftness she didn't know she possessed, she reached into her pocket and pulled out the "ice-pick."

Cries of surprise echoed off the sleek white walls of the hallway she found herself in. A chorus of "She's not dead's!" mixed with "Watch out's!"

A woman, Ms. Lola, not doubt, had her back to Scully. Her thick black hair was obscuring the view of her neck – the alien's one weak point. But that wasn't a problem. Scully pounced forward and with her free hand, the hand not holding the ice-pick, she grabbed a fistful of hair and raised it up. The other hand surged forward.

Going, going….

Yes! The sharp end of the weapon punctured the skin of the neck. She had done it! Now everything was going to be fine!

Scully's grin was from ear-to-ear as she inspected the weapon after she had used it. But her smile faltered when she saw the red blood shining along the silver needle-like projection. Red blood. The blood of aliens was green.

"That hurt!" The Lola woman clamped a hand behind her neck, her dark eyes flashing. She was looking at Scully with a mixture of surprise and disgust. "Guards! Restrain her!"

Instantly, another set of armed guards materialized out of nowhere and seized the ex-FBI agent.

"Ma'am, I am so sorry!" Apologized the sentinel who had first apprehended her. "But she was dead! I'm sure of it! She was shot to pieces."

The woman snapped her fingers and an Oiler appeared, dressed in military garb. "Well, she won't be alive for very much longer." She nodded to the Oiler. "Do your thing. Everyone else, move out!"

The guard holding Scully dropped her to the floor and joined everyone else as they scuttled around a corner, running for their lives. Soon, it was just she and the black-eyed infected.

She had an idea of what was about to happen before it actually did. The Black Oil was a radioactive substance. An in a pinch, those infected with the virus could use that radiation as a weapon. Mainly if, for whatever reason, they weren't able to infect their victims.

Sure enough, the body of the Oiler began to shimmer and glow with a glaring white light. The skin became transparent and the bones underneath stood out like dark shadows. And as the once-human creature burned with radiation, Scully could feel her skin sizzle and pop. Blisters formed and exploded, spewing pus and blood everywhere. And it hurt. The bullets had been a tea party compared to this.

But she was determined to stay conscious. She needed to stay awake, despite the pain. Pain. That wasn't the right word. There wasn't a word in the English language that accurately described the torment she was experiencing now.

And then, just went she thought she couldn't stand it any longer, her body erupted into flame with a startling whoosh and the fight to stay awake ended.

…

"She's still alive." The woman.

"It can't be!" A man's voice,

"It is. Look. She's already started to heal."

"How is this possible?"

"Could… could s-sh-she have been i-i-inducted into the Super Solider program without y-your knowledge?" Another male voice.

"No! Of course not!" The woman again.

"What should we do with her?"

"Put her in my room. I have an idea."

…

Scully awoke with a jolt and found herself lying on an overstuffed leather sofa. The room she was in was dimly lit, but she could make out large pieces of furniture scattered about the room and a huge flat-screened television mounted on the wall ahead.

Her hands still throbbed and were as red as a lobster, but any severe burns were gone. Healed. It looked as if she had only suffered a sunburn. And somebody had been kind enough to give her new clothes. She was now wearing a pair of smart gray tweed slacks and a button-down pink and white striped shirt in a chevron pattern.

"Dr. Scully. How nice of you to join us again. Would you care for some champagne?'

The outline of a woman could be seen in the room, holding two glasses of fine crystal. Upon closer inspection, it was revealed to be none other than "Ms. Lola" – the leader of the Syndicate.

"No answer? That's fine." The woman took a sip of the dark red liquid in her glass. "I don't think we've been properly introduced. My name is Dona Lola."

Scully said nothing. She thought it wise.

"I couldn't help but notice your surprise when she tried to kill me not so long ago. You thought I was alien, didn't you?"

She had. And she had every reason to believe that, too. The Rebels had given them the ice-pick and instructed them to kill the Syndicate leader. And hadn't they also said that the leader "wasn't entirely human"? What else could they have meant?

"I'm not," Dona Lola went on. "Alas, the fates weren't so kind to me. I am about as human as one can get." She took another sip of her champagne, long and slow. "You see, I was one of the first humans ever created. I am millions upon millions upon millions of years old."

The glasses were sat down on an end table and Dona Lola pulled up a chair and sat in it. "Before they left Earth, the Colonists took with them a handful of humans to accompany them as they traveled through space in the search for a new home. I've lived my entire life with the Colonists and have witnessed the miracles they perform. They are a perfect race. Their powers are scientific as well as metaphysical. Did you know they can even foretell the future?"

"I had no idea," Scully answered sarcastically. The sunburn aching was gone now and she felt more alert and ready to do or say whatever she had to to find time to come up with another plan.

"I suspect there are a great many things you do not know, Dr. Scully. But that needn't concern you now. Due to your little 'healing talents', you're about to enter into a wonderful new world."

Dona Lola smiled a rung a silver bell that had been placed on a nearby table. The door to the room opened and a man with one brown eye and one blue eye entered.

"Has everything been prepared?" Asked Dona Lola.

"Yes ma'am."

"Splendid. Come along, dear. There's someone in the study who is dying to meet you."

Heterochromia Man took hold of Scully and together the three of them exited out into the brightly lit hallway. A right turn, a left, another left, and Dona Lola stopped at a heavy oak door with intricate designs etched into the woodwork.

"I won't pretend to know how you came about this rejuvenation gift of yours," she said, her hand on the golden doorknob. "I admit there are things about this world I do not understand. But it doesn't really matter anymore, does it?"

The door opened and Dona Lola took over Heterochromia Man's duties as she hauled the bewildered Scully into a lavishly furnished room. The walls were wood paneled. The carpet was a vibrant green color and soft beneath their feet. A crystal chandelier hung from a domed ceiling and cast light upon shelves and shelves, filled to the brim with books.

And in the center of the room, a high arch backed chair faced away from them. There was somebody sitting in it, as was evident from the hands dangling out on either side.

"Won't you introduce yourself, dear?" Teased Dona Lola to the person in the chair.

With a rustle of fabric, the sitting figure stood and faced the two women. Scully didn't know if she should recognize the person in front of her –a young man dressed in a crisp business suit – but no memory bells were going off.

"Dr. Scully, where are your manners?" Exclaimed Dona Lola, giddy with anticipation. "Don't you remember Gibson Praise?"

Gibson? Was it really him? Scully looked closer. It was. He was much older than last they met, but the facial features were the same. But there was something off in his eyes. They were blank and emotionless.

"What have you done to him?" Scully whispered. "What did you do?!"

Dona Lola shrugged. "I inducted him into a very select group. The Super Soldiers Club, as it were."

No. No, it couldn't be true! But the impassive expression on Gibson's face spoke for itself. First John, now this! Was there no end to their evil deeds? How could they do this?

"You monster," Scully growled through clenched teeth.

"I had no choice," Dona Lola explained. "You see, our favorite little telepath here has been doing a lot of growing. His powers had evolved to mind control as well as reading. He used these powers to infiltrate my group. I found him out and was going to have him killed, but I sensed he would be a great pawn. I had him transformed and through my instructions, had him lure you to Washington." She frowned. "I suppose you either didn't take his advice or managed to escape the infection. But no matter. He's become very useful."

She moved to Gibson's side and kissed his cheek. A simple act that made Scully want to haul off and smack the crap out of the woman.

"Apparently, you have difficulty dying, _Ms_. Scully. This will come in handy when our dear Mr. Praise convinces you to become my bodyguard. And eventually, when my current body wears out, I'll take yours." The cruel Ms. Lola laughed. "It's strange to think that you could be my granddaughter a million times over. It wouldn't surprise me if it were true. But in any case, I'll leave the two of you alone now." She moved to the door and opened it. "I trust when next we meet, you'll have a whole new outlook on life."

And the door was shut.

Scully wanted to try the door, but she knew it was locked. Instead she turned to Gibson. It broke her heart that the boy she had once befriended had ended up like this trying to save the world.

"Gibson?"

Silence.

"Gibson? Can you hear me?"

Silence.

"Gibson, say someth_ARGH_!!!!

Her mind exploded into a shrill whine. _Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee. _It sounded like a broken smoke detector only it was much louder. And it didn't have an external source. It was coming from inside her mind. It was Gibson. He was attacking her telepathically.

"Gibson, stop it!"

But the screeching only grew louder. It was so loud; it brought tears to her eyes. She tried to think, but her thoughts were broken and disorganized.

_Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee._

And then she actually felt Gibson's mind pressing down on hers, smothering it. She could feel it as he raped her memories and deepest, darkest feelings. All her sacred memories – the nights she spent with Mulder, the sheer joy she felt when William had been born – every intimate memory was exposed and Gibson was tearing through them, shredding them into a thousand pieces.

_NO! I can't give up!_ Scully thought as she pressed her hands to her head, in an effort to re-capture her fleeing memories. Faces flashed through her mind and she tried to match names to them. But it was hard. So difficult to remember. Jim, Debbie, Marita, Mulder, William – these were people she cared about! People she loved! And they were depending on her! She couldn't let them down! She had to FIGHT!!!

Jim, Debbie, Marita, Mulder, William.

_Say it again. _

Jim, Debbie, Mulder, William.

_Again!_

Gibson's eyes were searing holes into her memory. It was impossible to resist.

Jim, Debbie, Mulder, William!

_Once more!_

Jack, Dasiy, Mul… Mul….der, William?

No. No, that wasn't right! She was loosing it. The faces were going dark now. She wanted to cry out to the man in front of her, the man doing this to her, she wanted to tell him to stop. But she couldn't remember his name. She… She couldn't even remember her own. Who was she? Where was she?

She couldn't remember a thing.

And then new faces emerged from the gloomy dark abyss. These faces were large and gray and had huge black eyes….

…

"Mom! Come on! Hurry up!"

"I'm trying! You're running too fast!"

William raced ahead of Debbie, dodging pine trees with the skill of a skier. He had to run. He was picking up a trail. A psychic trail, and if he followed it, it would led him straight to Ms. Dana and Marita.

And indeed, straight ahead, Marita came into view. She was leaning against one of the trees, her hands rammed into her suit's pockets.

"Marita!"

She jumped and whirled around, every part of her body going rigid. But when she saw who it was, she relaxed. "William? Debbie? What are you doing here? You were supposed to stay at the house!"

"Will had a vision," Debbie panted, out of breath.

William nodded quickly. "They're in trouble. Ms. Dana and Mr. Mulder. So we borrowed a car-"

"_Stole a car_," Mrs. Van de Kamp corrected, none too proud that she had committed a crime, even if it was to save the world.

"Whatever. The point is, we came here to make sure Ms. Dana's safe." William looked about. "Where is she?"

A brief period of silence followed the question. "She… She went ahead," Marita said.

"What do you mean? What happened?!"

"I can't explain it, but something happened and she went off to infiltrate the compound by herself."

A series of red flags went off in William's mind. "We have to get her out of there, then! She's in danger!" He spun around and saw a brick structure off to the side, standing alone in the woods. "What's that?! Can we use it to get inside? Can we?!"

Debbie put a hand on his shoulder. "Calm down, sweetie."

But he couldn't calm down! His mother, his biological mother, had walked into a death trap. And of her own accord! Why had she done such a thing?

"That leads to the basement levels of the facility," Marita explained.

"Well let's go!"

Marita caught William's arm as he brushed past her. "It's a dead end. The rest of the facility's cut off with a multi-lock door that requires thumb, retinal, _and_ voice scanning to gain access."

She sounded so calm. How could she sound so calm?! Ms. Dana was going to die in there and nobody wanted to do anything about it!!

"But we have to do something!" He exclaimed. "We can't just sit here!"

Marita sighed. "It's best we wait until Mulder arrives with reinforcements. We can decide the best course of action then."

William crossed his arms over his chest and jutted out his lip. He wasn't going to win this argument. As much as he hated it, he could do nothing until Mulder arrived. However long that took.

Up above, lighting flashed.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

December 21st, 2012

5:47 am

Caroline County, Virginia

Thick bloated storm clouds rolled swiftly overhead as Mulder, Jim and the rest of their ragtag group walked on foot through the Virginian countryside. It seemed that they had been walking forever – when in reality it had only been a few hours. The Costco truck they had used to escape the deathtrap of Richmond had run out of gas around three o'clock, stranding them in the middle of nowhere.

It had taken a little bit of convincing, but Mulder and Jim managed persuade the others to accompany them on foot to the Mount Weather complex in Bluemont. The 26 of them voted on it and in the end the decision was unanimous: Attack the Facility. Mulder had to admit that he was a little shocked by the outcome. As Bryce had mentioned earlier, none of "Costco Survivors" had any real combat training. And when Mulder had first brought up the idea, the enthusiasm was less than overwhelming.

But in the day since, their ideas began to change. They realized they really had nothing left to loose. Their jobs, homes, even their families and loved ones were gone. The world itself was a jumbled mess. The familiar protection of government was no longer there. Black Oil? Aliens?

There was no joy in living such a life.

And somewhere along the way, shortly after the truck gave out, Mulder told them the truth. He told them about the aliens had their plan to colonize the planet – an event that would take place in less than 24 hours if nothing was done to prevent it. And the strange thing was, nobody questioned it. Not one person laughed in his face and called him nuts. They just took him at face value. It made sense. Total worldwide destruction brought upon by a virus that turned those infected into mind-controlled zombies? That was real. That was happening right now. The idea of an alien invasion just naturally seemed to flow.

People used to call him "Spooky" back at the FBI. Good ol' Mulder. Always good for a laugh. But nobody was laughing anymore. That fact should have brought with it a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction, but it didn't. Mulder took no joy in seeing the looks of fear and uncertainty on the faces around him. During the hike to Mount Weather, the group had passed by an old playground. It had once been cheerfully painted in bright colors – blues, reds, yellows. But now the paint was faded and flecking off. And Mulder noticed something else. Small bloody handprints running town the length of the big plastic slide. Child's handprints.

He had wanted the world to know the truth, but not like this. Never like this.

They passed the playground of death, continuing on in their pilgrimage. They were a strange sight indeed. Twenty-eight men and women, each carrying at least one gun (which they had stolen from gun shops all over Richmond prior to their escape). They were silent; a somber mood had overtaken them.

Actually, that wasn't entirely true. Elijah, the longhaired lad of 18, had been talking Mulder's ear off for the past three hours. He found it fascinating that he was in the presence of a real-live FBI agent. He asked a million questions. Was being in the FBI exciting? Had he ever killed anybody? Had he, Mulder, actually ever seen an honest-to-goodness alien like, up close and personal?

Elijah was a good kid, if just a little hyperactive. Mulder enjoyed talking with him usually, but now, as heat lightning alighted the sky overhead, his thoughts were elsewhere. He wondered what time it was and toyed with the idea of asking Jim (thanks to his Eagle Scout training, the man could simply lick his finger, stick it in the wind and point the way to Saudi Arabia). But he decided he didn't want to know. Time was running out and ignorance was truly bliss.

…

Mount Weather

7:02 am

When Scully didn't come back after five hours, it was decided that one person should stand watch while the other two slept. Everyone was very tired and standing around having nothing to do simply aggravated the situation. Marita was to have the first watch while Debbie and William rested. And then, after an unspecified amount of time, Debbie would watch over Marita. Neither one of the two adults ever considered putting William in charge of guard duty. He was a child and couldn't be relied upon. At least that's what they thought. He was annoyed by this, but accepted it. There were some fights you just couldn't win.

Sleep didn't come easily for William, though. It took him a good two hours to nod off. But when he finally did, his sleep was quite peaceful. He awoke some time later, completely refreshed. Beside him, Debbie was curled into a tight ball on the forest floor, sound asleep. Judging by her soft snoring, her sleep was peaceful as well.

William stretched and looked about for Marita. He found her leaning against a tree. Her arms were folded and her head was down. She was obviously tired, and William decided to offer to stand watch while she joined his mom in catching z's. She probably wouldn't agree to it but there was no harm in asking.

He approached her nervously. There was something about the woman that intimidated him. She just seemed so _with_ it. She had perfect posture. When she moved, she moved deliberately, going from one place to another with no stops in between. And when she talked, she spoke slow and clearly. She hardly ever used thought gathering words like "um" or "like". She already had everything planned out before she opened her mouth.

It was embarrassing to admit, but he had a slight crush on her.

"Marita?" William moved next to her. "You should get some sleep. I'll watch over you if-"

He stopped. Marita was already asleep. She had fallen asleep standing up. But that wasn't surprising. The woman had been awake for over 48 hours. She was bound to drop sometime.

William's blue eyes moved from Marita to his mom. Both were sleeping soundly. And it didn't look like they were going to wake up anytime soon. As he watched the two adults, an idea began to form inside his head. This was his chance to go looking for Ms. Dana! With both Marita and Debbie out of the picture, there was nobody to stop him!

With his face set in a serious expression that was almost comical, he marched over to the small brick hut that was supposedly a secret passage to the facility and pulled on its door. It opened with a sharp _creak. _After a look over his shoulder to reassure him that the adults were still asleep, William entered the tiny structure and quietly shut the door behind him.

There was hardly enough room in the shack to move around. The inside was made even smaller by the fact that there an opening smack dab in the center of the floor with a ladder hooked on it leading underground. William descended this ladder without a second thought. He had to find and rescue Ms. Dana. The grown-ups sure weren't going to. And it didn't look like reinforcements were going to arrive anytime soon. So what choice did he have?

The ladder led down into a tunnel that had been carved out of rock below ground. It was dank and smelled of mold. The only source of illumination came from fluorescent lights suspended from the ceiling in chains. And at the end of the short tunnel was a door. It was made of metal and looked as if it could withstand a nuclear blast. It had no doorknob of any sort, which meant that it was electronically operated. Mounted on the rocky wall next to it was a bright blue LCD screen with a series of flashing buttons underneath. This was obviously where you had your thumb/eye/voice scanned to gain entry.

A dead end. Or was it? William had a feeling he could break down the door with his mind, but that would undoubtedly make a lot of noise and alert guards. But he knew that Ms. Dana was on the other side of that door. She needed help. She was in danger.

William stiffened and reached out with to mind to make contact with the door. Even with his eyes shut, he could make out every detail. It was shiny metal. A good four inches thick. Written in red _MASH_ type font on the front were the words "NO UNATHORIZED ENTRY".

_Oops_, William thought. _Sorry in advance_.

The nuclear-proof door twisted out of the frame, shrieking in protest. It buckled in the middle, folded in two like a sandwich, and was tossed out of the way to the side.

No alarms were going off. That was good.

The area beyond the door stood in stark contrast to the gloomy dark cavern. The world beyond was stark white. Sterile. The walls looked as smooth as crystal and the tile floor was so shiny that you could see your reflection.

The way was set. The only question was: should he go ahead with it? William absentmindedly touched the small cross around his neck. Yes. Yes, of course he would.

He bolted into the white expanse, not once looking back. He had to find Ms. Dana. She was there somewhere, but William couldn't pinpoint her precise location. Her "psychic trail", the way in which William was able to find Mount Weather in the first place, had gone cold. Was… Was she already dead? No, that didn't seem right somehow. She was probably just incapacitated.

William reached a fork in the road. He wasn't getting a strong feeling either way, so he blindly chose left. Then came a turn. And another. Then another. Another fork. Right, this time.

As he ran through the maze of corridors like a blind mouse looking for a piece of cheese, he began to wonder just where everyone was. Where were the Army personnel? Where were the guards? He didn't want to question his good luck, but something was feeling off.

Another corner. He took it and-

The rest of the hallway was cut off by a barricade of men dressed in combat fatigues. Some were kneeling some were standing. Fifteen men in all. They all had their eyes trained on William. And that wasn't all they had in common. Each had a gun pointed right in his face.

William felt all the air in his lungs whoosh out in one surprised sigh and he instantly threw both his hands into the air above his head. Wasn't that a sign of peace? They couldn't shoot him of he had his hands in the air, could they? Wasn't that some kind of a rule? That was the way it went on TV.

But this wasn't TV. It was real life. For a brief moment, William weighed the fact that he was just a kid against the fact that he was looking down the barrels of fifteen machine guns. They wouldn't fire on an unarmed boy, would they?

One look into their bloodthirsty eyes suggested otherwise.

He felt as if he was one second away from messing his pants when a voice spoke up from behind the wall of camouflage.

"What have you got?" A female voice.

"An intruder, ma'am," said one of the guards.

The sea of Army men parted and a woman stepped through. She had wavy black hair, dark chocolate eyes and a perfect heart-shaped face. She would've been beautiful had her features not been twisted so cruelly. She…

She was the woman in his vision.

William's mouth dropped open. His legs were rubber.

"A child," the woman said.

"Yes, ma'am."

Then William noticed the other two people standing next to her. His attention had been so focused on her; he had failed to see them. On the woman's right stood a young man dressed in a suit. He was shorter than the average male his age and his face was fuzzy with something that could just barely be called a beard. Nothing special about him, but the person on the left –

"Ms. Dana!"

William rushed forward to embrace his biological mother, but was stopped when a machine gun was shoved against his forehead. He backed up and took another look at Ms. Dana. Yes, it was really her. She was wearing different clothes than the last time he had seen her, but… Yes! He had found her!

"Ms. Dana! It's me! Are you okay? Are you hurt or anything? Ms. Dana? What's wrong?"

Something was wrong, that was for sure. Ms. Dana's blue eyes were staring out above William's head and she made no indication that she had even heard him yell out her name. She and the young man were standing still as statues.

"Oh, so you two know each other, do you?" Asked the woman, looking back and forth from Ms. Dana to William.

"He is her son," said the young man in a chilling robotic voice.

That seemed to grab the woman's attention. Her brown eyes grew wide and her mouth opened with astonishment. "_This_ is William Scully? This boy in front of me. Are you sure?"

The young man nodded slowly.

"Unbelievable. After all these years of searching for him… To have him delivered right to us." She paused and stroked her chin. "Gibson?"

The young man snapped to attention.

"See what you can do with him. The rest of you boys can go now. Let my bodyguards handle this."

The Army men lowered their weapons and left without a word. The dark-haired woman smiled sweetly at William and waved goodbye. "I'll see you soon. Very soon." And off she went around a corner.

With that woman gone, William rushed toward Ms. Dana, his arms outstretched. "Are you okay? Don't you recognize me? It's William! It's-"

_Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee. _

A shrill shrieking ripped through the soft tissue of his brain with such force that he was driven to his knees in pain. Where was it coming from? What was going on?! Through watering eyes, William could make out that the young man – Gibson – had taken a step forward. His empty eyes were focused on the flailing boy on the floor. It was this man, this _Gibson_, who was attacking him. William was sure of it.

But he wasn't going down without a fight. Not when he had come this far.

William bit down hard on his lip and fired back at Gibson with his own mind. The suited young man frowned; the first sign of emotion displayed by him, and took a step back. The relentless telepathic squeal died off a little. It was working! It was-

_EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!_

The noise was back and louder than ever. William felt as if his brain were going to split in half. He tried to call out to Ms. Dana for help, but was horrified to learn he no longer remembered how to work with mouth to form words.

_Forget about that_, he told himself. _Just concentrate on the counter-attack!_

William stood, braced himself against a wall and hurled a mental sledgehammer at Gibson. The piercing uproar was totally silenced this time and Gibson himself appeared to be in pain.

But there was no time to celebrate. True, William had the upper hand but if he lost his concentration for even one second, Gibson would be able to move in and take control. He could feel the young man's mind on top of his on, trying to suffocate it. But he was fighting back. The two telepaths were playing a psychic game of tug-of-war, each pulling (or pushing) as hard as they could. Even taking a breath was out of the question. To take a deep breath required thought and they couldn't afford to waste thought energies.

It seemed hopeless. Gibson had had his whole life to work on strengthening his powers and William had only discovered his a matter of days ago. But even still, the boy knew that he had more than enough power to defeat the man opposite him. The trouble was, if he pushed any harder it might mean death for Gibson and it was becoming more and more obvious that the young man wasn't in control of his own actions.

But Ms. Dana… She needed help! She needed help right now!

William lowered his head. "I'm…. I'm s-s-sorry." And he unleashed his full power.

The top of Gibson's head exploded with a disgusting _SPLISH_ sound and bits of skull and brain matter flew everywhere. The rest of his body collapsed like a string-less puppet onto the floor.

William's heart hammered in his tiny ribcage and his eyes remained glued to the puddle of blood that Gibson's lifeless body was lying in. He had done that. He had killed a man. He had murdered another human being. Was that even possible? Did an eleven-year-old child even have the capacity to kill? He knew it had been necessary, but that didn't make it easier.

Ms. Dana was temporarily forgotten as William made his way over to the corpse. He felt as if he should do something. Say a little prayer perhaps. Yes. That would help ease his troubled conscience. And he was set to do just that when he noticed something moving inside Gibson's hollowed-out skull.

The brain was re-forming. And not just the brain. The skull was repairing itself. A finger twitched.

_Oh. Crap_. Thought William.

He dashed over to Ms. Dana and took her hand in his. "Come on! We've got to get out of here! Mom and Marita's outside! Come on!!"

But she did not budge.

"What's wrong with you –_ark_!"

Ms. Dana's right hand sprung out like a cobra and seized William around the neck. With her eyes still staring at something far off down the hall, she began to squeeze. The boy was lifted off the tile floor, his Nike-clad feet swaying a good six inches in the air.

William tried to speak, but couldn't. The grip around his neck was too tight. His vision began to shimmer around the edges and he knew he was in danger of losing consciousness. He couldn't let that happen. Ms. Dana was being controlled! If he could only help her…

Weakly, he raised his left arm just before the world around him went dark, he touched Ms. Dana's forehead with one of his fingers.

Instantly, the white walls and floors of Mount Weather vanished and William felt himself falling. Deeper and deeper. Down into a murky black oblivion. He was inside Ms. Dana's mind. He knew that at once. But where was she? She had to be here somewhere!

The sickening falling sensation came to a gentle stop and William looked around. Blackness in every direction. Up, down, to the right, to the-

There she was! He had found her! Ms. Dana was bound in chains, rusty chains that extended infinitely in all directions. Her head was tilted to one side and her eyes were open but were seeing nothing.

"Ms. Dana! Ms. Dana!" William tugged on the horrible chains, but they gave no slack. That wasn't surprising. The chains were Gibson's chains of mind-control and only he or Ms. Dana had the power to break them.

William touched her face. It was cold. "Ms. Dana, wake up! Please! We don't have much time left!"

Nothing. She wasn't responding! Why?! Time could be felt slipping away like water. In the real world, Gibson was healing fast and if he healed up before William had a chance to free Ms. Dana… Well, it was over.

"MS. DANA!"

Even screaming into her face did nothing. What else could be done? What else could he do? Unless… Maybe he was going about things the wrong way.

William looked into Dana Scully's unresponsive eyes and felt a rush of gratitude for the woman. She was so brave. So strong. She had made the brave and unselfish choice to give him up for adoption even when she wanted nothing more than to keep him for herself. She had protected him. How could he ever repay her back? Well, he was sure going to try. He was going to protect her now.

He reached out and touched her face. "Mom?"

One of Ms. Dana's eyes rolled around franticly. Her lips moved ever so slightly. Slowly, her eyes shut and reopened. Shut and reopened.

It was working.

"Mom," whispered William. "It's time to go."

Ms. Dana raised her head in full alertness. "What… What did you call me?"

"I think you heard me, _Mom_," William gently teased.

Ms. Dana smiled the biggest smile of her life as she let the word wash over her. Her eyes glistened. "I've waited for that moment my whole life. It was worth it." A pause. "I love you, William."

"And I love you, too. But right now we have to get out of here. Come on, get up."

"I.. I can't. These chains… I can't break free."

"You can. They're your chains and you have the power to free yourself."

"No. I can't."

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes. With my life."

"Then do it," William ordered. "Get UP!"

Ms. Dana threw back her head and screamed a savage battle cry. She flexed her arms high up into the air and stretched her legs further and further apart. "Arrrggghh!!!"

The links of the chain stretched like silly putty. The tension was unbearable.

"Arrrggghh!!!"

_Ping!_

The chain restraining her left arm broke in two.

Ping!

And another.

_Ping, ping!_

And another and another.

Soon, Ms. Dana was completely free. The broken and useless chains lay in a jumbled heap behind her.

"William?" She asked.

"Yeah?"

"Let's get out of here, what do you say?"

He grinned. "Sounds good to me."

…

Scully blinked and once again she was in the stark halls of Mount Weather. And not only her, but also her son, William.

"The exit's over there," he said as he took hold of her hand.

She nodded and followed him as they both ran through the white labyrinth. Scully looked over her shoulder only once and saw Gibson, fully intact now, rising up groggily to his feet.

The exit came into view. They were going to make it! Just a little bit more!

_BAM! _

A gunshot fired somewhere behind them and a split second later, Scully felt the back of her head burst open as a bullet entered. She fell to the floor, bleeding heavily.

"MOM!!!!" William screamed and bent down to her. His entire body was shaking as he took hold of one of her hands.

"I'm okay," Scully mumbled. She felt the back of her head. Damp with blood, but otherwise okay. The wound had healed in record time. She was starting to get the hang of this immortality thing. "Keep moving!"

"Stay where you are!"

They turned and saw Dona Lola approaching. In one hand, she was carrying a large silver tube, kind of like a thermos. In the other, she held a gun, which was aimed at both of them. Gibson, newly rejuvenated, joined her.

Dona Lola handed the tube to Gibson and darted forward. She snatched up William by the arm and pressed him to her. "Your powers are truly remarkable," she said. "You've managed to defeat Mr. Praise, and I thought he was the best at what he did. I'm very impressed."

Scully jumped to her feet and ran toward them, but was stopped by Gibson. He moved in between her and Dona Lola with the speed of a jaguar.

"You're a very special little boy, did you know that?" Asked Dona. "And you're going to join us. One way or the other."

William's eyes widened with horror.

"No!" Scully pounded on Gibson's chest, but he would not move an inch. "If you hurt him, I'll kill you! Do you hear me?!" She swore at Dona Lola, hurling it with a scream. "_IF YOU TOUCH HIM, I'LL KILL YOU!!!!!!_"

Dona Lola pressed the barrel of her gun against William's temple. "And if you say ONE MORE WORD, I'll blow his head off, I swear!!! Now SHUT UP!!!"

With that final threat, Scully's mouth clamped shut. She was helpless. She played with the idea of rushing Dona Lola, but the gun was too close to William. She couldn't die, but he could. And would, if she so much as breathed the wrong way.

With a nod of her head, Dona Lola summoned Gibson to her side. The boy screwed off the top of the thermos-like object and presented it to her. William, still being held hostage, looked as if he were about to cry. His chin was moving up and down, his eyes were twinkling with tears, but he refused to actually cry.

It was then that Scully knew she had been mistaken. Age made no difference at all. All that mattered was heart. And she knew that her son truly had a soldier's heart.

Dona Lola handed over her gun to Gibson and dipped her free hand into the tube. She smiled devilishly and withdrew it after a few seconds. It was covered in the Black Oil.

Scully was about to scream, but caught herself. All she could do was watch in horror as the black goo began to converge and form maggot-like wisps that slithered up and down the woman's arm. Next to her, William began to whimper just slightly.

"Come now," Dona Lola grinned. "It's not going to hurt. At least, I don't think it will." She laughed. "I guess I don't know for sure."

Suddenly, she reached out with her non-Oiled hand and tugged down on William's mouth.

"NOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!" Screeched Scully; all too aware of what was about to happen. She kicked, punched and even bit Gibson as she tried to reach her son, but it was no use. He would not be moved.

Dona Lola pried open William's mouth with brute force. Tiny, choked breaths rushed out of the boy's lungs as she rammed her Oily hand into his mouth. She laughed manically as the black maggots slid beneath his skin, making their way to his brain.

She was still laughing as she released him. William collapsed upon the floor, hitting his head with a nauseating _thump_.

"You can have him now," Dona Lola giggled. She motioned to the boy, who was shaking and jerking on the floor.

Scully pushed Gibson out of the way and kneeled down next to her son. She gently rolled his face over. Her breath caught when she saw the dreaded black mist swirling over his blue eyes.

"You're free to take him," Dona Lola said. "But the real question is, do you want to? He's infected now. If you take him, it'll only be a matter of time before he infects the rest of your little party. Then again, if you leave him here, what kind of mommy would you be?" She crossed her arms. "Tough choice, ain't it, sugarplum?"

Scully scooped up William's limp body in her arms and brushed past Gibson once again, saying not a word.

Dona Lola laughed. "You really _are_ an idiot!"

Just before she exited into the rocky tunnel, Scully turned around and glared at her. "Enjoy your life while you can. When next we meet, you have my word that I will kill you."

Dona Lola smiled sweetly. "I'm _so_ scared," she said as she flipped Scully the bird.

…

The North American Birthing Center

14 Miles Outside Kansas City

It was time for the noon meal. The birthers filled into mess hall without much enthusiasm. The meals were the same from day to day. Heck, life was the same day to day living in the pit they were in. Nothing changed.

Monica joined the rest of the women as they sat down on hard wooden benches to eat. There were no tables. And there were no utensils. Those were luxuries. Another reason there were no knives or forks had to do with the fact that they could be made into weapons. Not that anyone would dream of overpowering the Oiler-guards. No, they dreamt of suicide. Monica had learned this during her one day stay. She had also learned other things.

It turned out that they alien babies being birthed were not true aliens. In other words, they were not recognized by the Colonists as "pure". The alien babies had had human mothers, and were thus to be used as a slave rave. Once the human raced had been wiped out, the lower-class aliens were to be used for labor.

"Honey, at least try to eat," Rosa pleaded.

Monica frowned and took a bite of some moldy bread. It was absolutely repugnant, but she managed to swallow it anyway.

_Have to stay healthy for my baby_, she thought sarcastically. She looked down and noted that her belly looked like that of a woman 8-months along. Well of course it did. She had had two more radiation treatments.

"Not so bad, is it?" Rosa asked.

Monica glared at her.

An alarm blared and everyone put down their "meals" and began to file out of the dingy mess hall. Time to get on with the treatments. That was what the day revolved around. No joy, no laughter. Nothing but the treatments. How could any of them stand it, knowing that eventually they would be executed because they would have outlived their usefulness?

Just as Monica was about to exit the room, her eye caught upon something shiny upon a nearby desk. It was a paperclip, holding a bunch of important looking documents together.

She couldn't believe her good luck. Her hand sprang out and snatched the clip from the papers and she hid it within her palm all the way to the barracks. Once she was certain that there were no Oilers around, she tapped Rosa on the shoulder and showed her the paperclip.

"We can use this to remove the chips in our necks!" Monica exclaimed, barely able to contain her glee. The metal chips in all the birthers' necks were the only things keeping them away from the outside world. Monica had found that out the hard way. One escape attempt, and the chip merely paralyzed you for a while. A second try, and you were dead.

Rosa looked at the paperclip as if she had never seen one before in her life. "Where did you get that?!"

"I stole it. Now come on, I'll get yours out first and then you can do me."

"No. We can't do this. We-"

Monica was already straightening it out. "This is our last chance! We won't have another!"

Rosa shook her head. "Wait. Just wait!" She clasped her hands over Monica's. "If you remove the chip, you'll get sick."

"Huh? How do you mean?"

"I dunno. Just _sick_. It's a precautionary measure they use."

Was she serious? So what if Monica got sick? If she stayed at the Center, she'd be as good as dead sooner or later. What did it matter if she caught some kind of cold from taking the chip out?

"Well, I'm doing it." Monica handed the straightened paperclip to Rosa. "Take it out."

The malnourished black woman smiled understandably. "Let's just calm down okay? Let's just relax and-"

"JUST DO IT!" Monica spat.

Rosa put a shaking hand to her mouth. Her eyes began to water and a tear slid down her cheek. But she nodded and moved close to Monica. Pretty soon, she felt the dull end of the clip jab the nape of her neck. Over and over again like a tattoo artist's needle.

From behind her, Monica heard Rosa sob.

_What have I become? _She asked herself. She got no answer. She had no right to scream at Rosa like that. Yelling at an innocent woman… What _was_ she becoming? She was doing this for John and yet….

Fifteen minutes later, after countless pokes with the paperclip, Rosa pressed Monica's chip into her hand. It was covered in blood. And what really struck her was the size of the thing. It was only a little larger than the head of a pin. It was unreal that such a small thing could cause so much anguish.

Monica turned to thank Rosa for helping her. Well, that and apologize for yelling at her, but the other woman was gone. That was a shame. Monica had wanted to talk to her one last time before she left and now she would probably never see her again.

Oh, well. It couldn't be helped.

Monica tossed the hateful computer chip to the side and fled the barracks. She ran out of the squalid shack and out into the courtyard area. It was empty for the most part. Most birthers preferred to get a little sleep after the midday meal. However, one or two Oilers milled about listlessly. And there, parked against the walls of the courtyard, was what she had been looking for.

It was the black truck that had delivered the new set of birthers to the Center yesterday. It was empty for now; the driver was more than likely off somewhere getting information on new potentials.

Monica wasted no time. She darted across the muddy expanse of the courtyard and plastered herself up against the truck's side. Nobody had noticed her. Yet, anyway. She prayed that trend would continue.

Quietly, she opened the truck's door and hoisted herself up, using the bottom of the doorframe as a step. She then climbed on top of the roof, a difficult act thanks to her "8-month belly". With one hand, she judged the distance between her and the wall. Not too far. She could make it.

She was just about to hall herself up over the barbed wire top of the wall when a there came commotion behind her. She didn't need to look back to know that she had been spotted. But it didn't matter. With her chip gone, they could do nothing about it.

The barbed wire was sharp, of course, and it ripped and tore her "potato-sack" dress into pieces. But nevertheless, she managed to crawl over the top of the wall, bloody and cut in so many places, but still alive. She dropped to the ground, sailing through the sky for an eternity before finally slamming to the ground. All the air was knocked out of her lungs and she instinctively worried what kind of impact the fall had had on her unborn baby. Then she caught herself. What did she care if the wretched thing growing inside her was injured?

From inside the Center, pandemonium had broken out. Monica laughed bitterly as she pictured the Oilers inside a dark control room, hitting a button labeled "Monica's Self Destruct". She then imagined their shocked faces when they realized things weren't working out just the way they were supposed to.

Ha.

But she couldn't get lazy now. Sure, the chip was gone, but the Oilers could still catch her and drag her back to the Center. And it was almost a sure bet that they would kill her once inside.

So Monica ran. She ran through the woods. She ran as fast as her feet would carry her. Over the rough forest floor, covered in sharp, broken twigs, across a freezing pond – she ran. For John.

…

At first, William thought that he had gone blind. He blinked his eyes, but no matter which position they were in, opened or closed, all he saw was an inky blackness. This was different than the dark void of Ms. Dana's mind-controlled brain. This was downright oppressive. Evil, somehow.

He tried to move, but couldn't. Something was crawling all over his body. Something wet, slimy and cold. And the more he thought about it, the more he was aware of a sensation he was feeling – it was like bobbing up and down in water. Was he floating out in the ocean? No. It was too quiet to be the ocean. There were no breaking waves, no squawking seagulls. The sounds of life were absent in this horrible place.

Just. . .blackness.

"Is he alive?"

William's body jumped slightly as the silence was broken. A voice? Yes. It sounded like a young girl's voice. And it was close. It sounded like it had come from right next to his ear.

"He's alive," confirmed another voice. Still female, but older.

"Can he hear us?" Asked the younger girl to her counterpart.

"I can hear you," William acknowledged. His voice was soft and weak and seemed so far away that it might have belonged to another person, but he was surprised he could talk at all.

"We're here to watch over you, Will," said the older woman. Her voice was so soothing and so gentle. William could just close his eyes forever and listen to that silky voice.

"Yeah," said the girl, "but we're also here to motivate you into action. Now come on, get up!"

William opened his eyes and saw two vague female shapes silhouetted against the murky blackness. One was short and had long, following hair. The other was taller, had medium-length hair, and something was glistening around her neck. But it was too much effort to keep his eyes open for so long. With a defeated sigh, he let them close once more.

"What's he doing?" Exclaimed the young form. "Why is he closing his eyes?"

The older female sighed. "He feels he can't go on. He's tired."

"What? You've got to be kidding me. Look, kid. I've come a long way to be here with you now, so I'd appreciate it if you'd fight just a little. If you don't fight, they win! Get it? And you can't let them win because they're evil. Just plain evil. I can testify to that firsthand."

"We _both_ can," corrected the older woman.

What did they want? What were they asking him to do? Fight? He couldn't! He could barely keep his eyes open! They didn't understand. It was easy to stand off on the sidelines, shouting tips at the players, but it was a totally different thing to actually play the game yourself.

"Oh, I give up," the girl grumbled. "The boy's hopeless."

"William, you helped save Dana. She was in the same situation you're in right now. Now it's your time to fight. She did it and you can do it too. Prove to us that you're Dana's son!"

"That was different!" William exclaimed. "I can't fight this stuff. It's all over me. I can't. I'm too tired. Just leave me alone."

"_This_ is the savior of the world?" The girl scoffed. "Puh-lease. If that's the case, they're in big trouble now."

"Hey now," Now came the older woman's more relaxing voice. "You can fight this. You just need to believe in yourself. Your aura's still strong and-"

"Oh, great," the girl sighed. "Here we go again with the harmonic convergence."

William frowned. He didn't like the idea of the girl picking on the other one. "You know," he said. "Just because it's positive and good, doesn't make it silly or trite."

The woman clapped. "Exactly! Thank you! It's nice to know _somebody_ understand me."

"Whatever." The girl was starting to get huffy. "I'm going in, like, two seconds. So I suggest you get in gear and give us your hands so we can pull you up."

"I don't know if I can."

"Give us your hands, _butt-munch_!"

Smiling a little to himself, he lifted his arms up into the air. It was so hard to do. Gravity had gone crazy. Each arm felt as if they weighed over two hundred pounds. And the blackness was everywhere. It-

Two strong hands clasped around William's left elbow and another set clammed the other. And he was lifted up into the air. Up, up, up! The blackness was instantly gone. In its place was a glittering golden sky. Like a supernova. Down below, that's where the black sea was. William watched it as he flew higher and higher. It was churning and pitching violently. Black waves were crashing upon one another in a mad frenzy. And then, the color of the water changed. In an instant, they changed from pitch black to a gleaming white color.

"Purity," William whispered as he crashed through the center of the sparking golden sky above.

…

"He's waking up! Hurry! Hurry! William, can you hear me?"

William opened his eyes. He was back in the woods surrounding the Mount Weather compound. Ms. Dana was hovering over him, her red hair cascading over her face as she bent down and hugged him. "You're awake! You're awake! Everyone, he's awake!"

Ms. Dana was then joined by others. It was no longer just Marita and Debbie. A crowd of nearly 30 people, people he had never seen before, gathered around him in a tight circle. Lightning flashed high above, and the faces of Jim and Mulder could be made out among the crowd. It reminded William of that scene in _The Wizard of Oz_, where Dorothy wakes up back in her own room after her journey to the magic land. She sees her family and friends all around her and realizes she's back home.

William understood just how she had felt.

"Baby!" A familiar voice rose up amongst the crowd and there was Debbie. Her dark hair a mess and her cheeks wet with tears. She outstretched her arms and suffocated William in a massive hug. Jim soon followed suit. Off to the side, Mulder was rubbing Ms. Dana's back.

"That was a stupid, stupid, stupid thing you did!" Debbie exclaimed as she covered her son's face with kisses. "You could have gotten yourself killed! What were you thinking?!" She paused. And then, almost like an afterthought: "Are you okay? You're not hurt, are you?" She lifted up William's shirt to inspect for any scars or cuts.

"_Mom_!" William pulled his shirt back down, his eyes darting over to Marita. "I'm fine. I'm okay. There's no place like home." He turned to Jim and wrapped his arms around the man's neck. "You're here!"

"Yes, I am. And I'm so glad to see you again."

William smiled and ran over to Mulder. "And I'm happy to see you again, too."

"Well, thank you," Mulder nodded. "That's awfully nice."

"They arrived here just a few hours ago," Ms. Dana said as she ruffled up William's long unkempt hair.

Hours? Did she just say _hours_? "How long was I out?"

"Almost the entire day," Marita said.

And then came another thought. "What… What time is it?"

Everyone exchanged looks. They knew what he meant.

"We aren't sure," Mulder said.

But William had an idea he knew. He was just afraid to say it out loud.

…

The group of survivors outside might not have known the hour, but the clocks in Mount Weather were in perfect synch and keep flawless time. And they each read: 11:58 pm. It was still December 21st, 2012.

It was approaching. With each second that was ticked off, it was coming.

11:59 pm. Still December 21st.

The date of the human race's execution was neigh. But there would be no last minute pardons. There was no time for last-minute confessions to be heard. For it was already-

The clocks chimed midnight simultaneously.

It was now December 22nd, of the year 2012.

The _future_ was now.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

The instant the clocks at Mount Weather rung in the new day, they came. They descended from the clouds in their ships like vultures preparing to feast upon the corpse of a ruined planet. The lighthouse points – Kazakhstan, Skyland Mountain, and the Ruskin Dam in Pennsylvania – were the first spots on the planet to witness the grand entrance of these terrible visitors. It was a monumental day in the history of all mankind, but their arrival went largely unnoticed. Already, the vast majority of the Earth's population had succumbed to Purity – the very life force of the aliens – and had, in some regard, become alien themselves.

From space, they came.

Facing no resistance, they came.

To witness the end of humanity itself, they came.

…

Dona Lola glanced at her wristwatch and smiled. It was time. She left her living quarters with Gibson at her side and made her way through the twisting corridors to the Assembly Room. On the way there, she couldn't help but think that this day would be the culmination of 65 years of hard work. All the planning, all the secrecy, the deception, and the lies – it was going to finally pay off. Of course, there was the small matter of Dana Scully and the group gathered outside, but that wasn't going to be an issue for long. With that William child infected, it would only be a matter of time before he would spread the infection among the others in the group.

The door to the Assembly Room loomed ahead and she opened it and stepped inside, just like she had first done one year ago. But this time, the members were much more nervous. Twitchy Man was in the back of the room, hurriedly pacing back and forth while Heterochromia Man sat in a chair with a glass of brandy in his hand. He hadn't taken a sip, though. He was just staring blankly into the wall before him. The other men made tense, meaningless small talk with one another.

"Gentlemen," Dona Lola entered the room and put her hands on her hips. "It is time. Contact has been made. If you will just follow me outside, we can get this show on the road."

The men cleared their throats and swallowed loudly. None of them were in any hurry to go outside. But they didn't really have a choice. They had to greet their guests.

Heterochromia Man arose from his chair and approached Dona Lola, his eyes cast down upon the floor. The others did the same. When everyone was gathered together, their leader led them out of the room and through the halls like a schoolteacher taking her class on a bathroom break. They were led through the rocky tunnels of the complex and arrived at the large gates that separated the inside of the facility from the rest of the world. The gates were opened without fanfare and the Syndicate members stepped outside for the first time in a year.

The air had gotten rather chilly and a fierce wind attacked them from all sides. Up above, thunder crashed and lighting tore through the clouds, creating ghostly shadows on the ground below. It really did look like the end of the world.

And then, with another flash of lightning, the sky was illuminated with an eerie blue glow and a small object could be seen in the sky. Triangular in shape, it sailed through the storming clouds, coming closer and closer until it disappeared again when all went dark.

Dona Lola smiled. She turned to the men behind her. Six Syndicate members and two armed guards. Every one of them looked absolutely terrified. "I would like to take this time to express my deepest thanks to all of you," she said to the group, her voice loud over the storm. "We couldn't have done it without you."

She pounced upon the armed guard closet to her and snatched his automatic rifle away from him. Grinning ear to ear, she squeezed the trigger and assaulted her colleagues with a spray of bullets. The stuttering roar of the machine gun overpowered the sound of the crashing thunder and also the screams of the men as they were being gunned down. A full thirty seconds later, Dona Lola finally ceased fire. She looked upon the dead bodies with amusement.

There was Twitchy Man, bent over backwards, his rear end high in the air. His ample backside dotted with bullet wounds. And next to him lay Heterochromia Man. A bullet was wedged into his forehead like a grisly Indian bindi. Both of his eyes, the blue one and the brown one, were glazed over in death, staring up into the sky. But though they were frosted over, the expression of surprise was so evident in them; it seemed to radiate from his face.

That struck Dona Lola as funny. So she laughed. Had these men really thought they would be spared? Had they truly believed that just because they helped prepare the way for the Colonists, they _wouldn't_ be struck down with the rest of their countrymen? If so, they were only fooling themselves. They had to have known that. A New Age was coming. An Age where the Colonists, the rightful inhabitants of Earth, would have complete dominion over the land and sea. Humans did not figure in with this plan.

Dona Lola threw the rifle atop the eight dead bodies and turned her attention to the sky. Her masters were coming.

…

From her hiding spot in the woods high above Mount Weather, Scully watched, along with the rest of the survivors, as Dona Lola killed off the Syndicate. She wasn't surprised by this action, but she _was_ disgusted by it. There was no sense of loyalty among vipers. This Dona Lola woman seemed to be the embodiment of evil. She so perfectly represented the forces that Scully and Mulder had fought so hard against.

Scully was looking forward to spending a little time alone with her.

And now the woman was looking up into the sky. Scully didn't want to follow her gaze. She knew what was up in the clouds without actually looking. But curiosity got he better of her. Her blue eyes traveled up… Up… Higher still…

"Oh, God." Jim put a shaking hand around his wife's shoulders. "Oh. God." He didn't mean it as a swear or as an expression of shock. It was more like he was begging God to have mercy upon them all.

There were dozens of them. They were thin, impossibly thin and their dimensions were that of a perfect equilateral triangle. The color of the ships ranged from slate gray to a kind of moss green. Earth tones. Soothing colors. But there was nothing soothing about the occupants inside. Scully knew this for a fact.

Behind her, the other survivors mumbled their amazement. Most of the words spoken were said in hushed tones and one syllable. "Wow" and "Crap" seemed to be the preferred expressions of wonderment, but there were a few colorful swear words thrown in for equal measure.

Scully saw the looks of horror and awe etched upon the faces of everyone around her and knew how they felt. Here they were, ordinary people –dairy farmers, high school students, grocery baggers, battery salesmen – witnessing the dawning of a new era in world history. Who would have ever guessed it? Even with her FBI background and her work on the X-files, where she had experienced extraordinary events on a daily basis, the sight of all those spaceships looming high overhead filled her with a sense of astonishment. She was thunderstruck, pure and simple.

The reverent moderate silence was shattered with a loud swear. Mulder's hands were clenched tight into purple fists and his mouth was a twisted grimace. "They promised! They said they'd take care of them!" He beat the ground over and over with the palm of his hands. "That's what they said, wasn't it?" His voice wavered and fell. He had gone from anger to despair in no more than ten seconds. He looked up at Scully, his partner, his confidant, and best friend for nearly 20 years with a look of a child who hadn't received that special end-all be-all toy for Christmas. "That's what the Rebels told us. They lied."

Scully opened her arms wide and Mulder sunk, defeated, into her embrace. She stroked his hair tenderly, making a point to keep her eyes trained on the ground. She didn't want to look up. She didn't want to see the ships – those harbingers of death.

They had failed. The Rebels had failed in destroying the Colonists in space and Mulder and Scully failed in "taking out" the leader of the Syndicate here on Earth. Total failure all the way around.

But it hit Mulder the hardest, that feeling of defeat. He had dedicated the better part of his life in finding the truth, and had found it in the end. But what a terrifying truth it was. It was a truth he didn't think that he could face. But he _had_ faced it. He had fought bravely against it, these last 10 years. Only now, it was hopeless. Nothing more could be done or said. The enemy had won.

"What's this?"

Mulder and Scully looked up into the face of Bryce. The man was furiously caressing his mustache with one hand and the other was propping his elbow up. "You're got giving up, are you?" He asked Mulder in disbelief.

Mulder shrugged and made a helpless gesture that said: "I tried. What more do you want of me?"

Bryce bent down on his haunches. "Look, we didn't come all the way here for nothing, right?" He asked, stealing glimpses up into the sky. "We came here to fight. So let's fight! What do ya say?"

With a halfhearted nod, Mulder rose to his feet and took a deep breath. He stared out across the expanse of the forest and onto Mount Weather below. He then lifted his head ever so slightly to gaze upon the whirling spaceships overhead. He shook his head and let out a moan. Scully knew what he was feeling. She always did. He had agreed to keep fighting the good fight not because he thought they'd win, but because they were going to die. And since they were going to die, they might as well go out with a bang.

"Let's move back," he suggested finally. His voice did not contain a trace of his usual whit or humor. There was no time for levity. "We should move deeper into the woods and plan what we're going to do next."

The rest of the group was more than anxious to get a move on – to _get out of there_. Mulder went first, heading further into the thick curtain of pine until he disappeared from sight. Bryce, Elijah, Alfeo, and the rest of the survivors from Richmond trailed behind. Jim and Debbie came next, with William huddled in between them. He locked eyes with Scully and gave her a reassuring smile before being devoured by the trees. Marita brought up the rear, looking as cool and calm as ever.

Scully grabbed the other woman's arm and tried her best to imitate William's smile. "It's going to be okay."

Marita gave her a look that seemed to say: "Are you kidding me?" and joined the others as they trekked deeper into the forest.

As Scully prepared to do the same, she glanced back over her shoulder. She didn't want to, but it was more of a reflex action than anything. The sleek spaceships were spiraling high overhead in a loose circle formation. Their numbers had grown, too. There were now upwards of a hundred of them, flying through the air in a loop. What were they doing? What were they waiting for? Down below, Dona Lola had her hands clasped close to her breast. A satanic grin had overtaken her lips and though she was standing in one spot, she was bouncing up and down on her feet with happy excitement. She looked like a beauty queen waiting for her name to be announced as the winner of some kind of pageant.

More than anything, Scully wanted to rush down there and strangle the woman to death. How dare she laugh and giggle as she prepared to greet the architects of man's demise! She started to take a step in that direction, but decided against it. There would be time for revenge later. Right now, Mulder and the others needed her. But she would be back to deal with Dona Lola. Oh, yes she would.

Scully turned away and was about to enter into the woods when lighting flashed. And flashed, and flashed. But it was continuous. Most lightning strikes only lasted for a few seconds. Two, three, maybe four at the most. But this one illuminated the sky for an eternity. And the color was off as well. Lightning was blue or white. This was something else. It was a bright neon purple color.

With growing trepidation, Scully turned around, now fully aware of a loud electronic humming noise.

The billowing clouds above the circling ships were aglow with an otherworldly pink/purple light. For some unknown reason, this light reminded Scully of funeral homes. Why, she couldn't say exactly. She watched as the clouds split apart like the Red Sea. The humming noise grew louder. The louder it got, the more like chimes it sounded. Crystalline music.

And then, a long metal spike tore through the lighted sky. It was huge, maybe just the tiniest bit smaller than the Washington Monument. It was joined by another, and another, and another. Soon, the sky looked to be a giant pincushion with a dozen different sized barbs protruding through it. The chimes rose in pitch, and Scully's eyes widened with absolute shock. Her hands went dead at her sides. Her legs went liquid and she had to brace herself against a tree to keep from collapsing.

A massive, _colossal _vessel descended from space and into the Earth's atmosphere. As each part of it drew beneath the clouds, Scully could make it out in greater detail. For one thing, it was gigantic. Easily a mile, more likely _two_ miles across. The other ships were nothing more than mere flies buzzing around it. The spikes jutted out from the bottom of the structure like metal thorns. The thing was domed-shaped and appeared to be constructed out of semi-transparent black glass. It was multi-tiered, with each level rotating in a different direction than the one above. The freakish neon light that so haunted Scully before was coming from a series of strange purple glowing symbols that adorned the ship's hull. Spaceship…. That word didn't seem fitting enough to describe a structure as grand as this one. Space-_Palace_. That was more like it.

She could have stood there forever, transfixed by the incredible sight before her, but –

"Eeeeeeeeek!!"

A scream. It sounded like Debbie. Scully turned tail and ran into the woods. The limbs of the pine trees swatted at her face and body. The once-beautiful chime sound was now maddening. She ran on. Where were they? The scream had come from close by that was for sure. But where? Where?

Scully pushed aside another branch and stopped in her tracks.

Debbie, Jim, William, Marita, Mulder and the rest of the group was standing in a small clearing. They were huddled together with their hands raised up into the air. A solider, clad in the familiar combat camo, stood at the edge of the clearing, pointing a service pistol at them. He noticed Scully and motioned for her to join the others.

Cursing under her breath, she put her hands up behind her head and made her way to the huddle. She seriously considered rushing the solider and taking his gun away, but decided against it. There were too many people around to try a daring stunt like that. Besides, there was something strange about him…

For one thing, he was an Oiler. That much was certain due to his swirling black eyes. But there was something else wrong with him. Something was _very_ wrong. His skin didn't seem to be skin at all, but some kind of slimy gelatin substance. His face was also almost completely transparent. Looking past his glistening yellowish face, his skull could be faintly seen. His eyes were enormous balls behind his eyelids and even the top of the cranium was marginally see-through so that part of his brain stood out beneath his hair – a hazy gray form suspended in midair.

"Move," the Oiler commanded, his voice sounded choked and gurgling, like he was trying to talk while drowning. He jerked his gun in the direction of Mount Weather, and Scully noticed that the arm holding the weapon up wasn't bent at the elbow like it should have been. Rather, it looked more like an S-curve. It looked like Gumby's arm.

The group of survivors turned around and headed toward Mount Weather. They walked agonizingly slow. They were in no rush to die. Choked sobs and whimpers emanated from the small crowd as they were led through the woods like Jews on their way to the concentration camp's crematoriums. At one point, Debbie fell to her knees and refused to get back up.

"I can't," she hiccupped, tears cascading from her eyes. "I can't. I just… I just…"

Jim and William immediately rushed to her side and tried to convince her to continue on. The slimy Oiler noticed this display of weakness and moved quickly over to her side and pressed his firearm to the back of her head. He had just pulled the hammer of the gun back and was preparing to fire, when Mulder seized the Oiler's wrist so suddenly that the gun dropped onto the forest floor.

The possessed soldier hauled off and whacked Mulder across the side of the face, his Jell-O arm making a series of crazy loops in the air after the strike. Mulder hobbled backward and Scully had to put her hands beneath his arms to keep him from falling. Meanwhile, Debbie had thankfully regained her senses and continued on the death-march. The Oiler kept a watchful eye on her, waiting for any excuse to blow her brains out.

William looked quickly back at Scully and Muler with a heartbreaking look of helplessness on his face. He had been so ready to fight. So ready to make a difference. Now he understood that noting mattered anymore. There would be no happy ending. He turned his sad face back ahead and Scully had to squeeze her eyes tightly shut to keep from crying. Nevertheless, a few icy tears managed to slip past the blockade and slide down her cheeks and off her chin.

_Oh, Will_, she thought. _Why did you have to come here? Why couldn't you have just stayed at home?_ But she knew why: He had come to save her. That should have made her proud, but it didn't. She just felt guilty. So very guilty.

They were led down the steep hill that led down to Mount Weather, the Oiler telling them to "Hurry up" every so often with that strange liquid voice of his. When they finally made it down, Dona Lola was there to greet them with a smile.

"Well, well, well. It's such a pleasure to meet the saviors of humanity! So, what was the plan? Kill me and save the world?" She laughed and scanned the faces of the crowd, picking out faces she knew. "Hello, Ms. Covarrubias! Such strange company you keep these days. You just switch sides whenever it's convenient, don't you?" She saw William, partially hidden between Jim and Debbie and scoffed. "Hmph. Still alive, are you? You must be even more powerful than I thought. No matter. You'll get what's coming to you soon enough."

"Don't. Talk. To. Him," Scully hissed.

Dona Lola clapped her hands. "We meet again, Dr. Scully! How are you? You know, I can't help but think that the last time we saw each other you threatened me. I believe you gave me your word that you'd kill me." She waved a finger and make a _tsk-tsk-tsk_ noise. "You shouldn't make promises you don't intended to keep."

"The night's still young," Scully replied, astonished at how confident her voice sounded.

Dona Lola shrugged and continued to scan the crowd. When her eyes fell on Mulder, she crossed her arms over her chest and laughed. "Agent Mulder, yes? Although, you haven't been employed by the FBI for quite some time now. You're just an average Joe now, aren't you? Back at the Bureau, you were one of the best and brightest." She chuckled and looked up at the floating Space-Palace and the triangular ships whizzing around it. "Too bad you wasted your career with all that alien mumbo jumbo." She looked at Mulder again, her face serious. "You failed. You know that, don't you? You've tried your best to stop us, but it was all in vain. Look around you. Look at the people standing next to you. Before the sun comes up, they'll all be dead. You included. How does that make you feel?"

"I'm sorry," Mulder said. "Could you repeat the question? I had no idea I was in a therapy session."

A frown took over Dona Lola's haughty smile and she threw her head back and spat at Mulder. He calmly wiped the spittle off his face with the back of his hand. "Geez, lady. That wasn't a smart thing to do. We're in cold and flu season! Don't you know you could have given me a germ?"

Good. This was good. Mulder making his idiot jokes was a positive sign. It meant he was coming out of his despair. Maybe they could make some kind of final stand after all. With any luck, they'd take Dona Lola out with them.

The despicable Dona Lola was about to make some kind of comment but halted her retort when she noticed the musical chiming of the Space-Palace had stopped. Somehow the silence was so much worse than the annoying ringing. The silence signaled something was coming.

Scully glanced about and saw a horde of Oilers come filing out of Mount Weather. Some were dressed in military garb; others were wearing expensive business suits. But the one thing they all had in common was the black eyes and the gunky see-through skin.

"It's time. They're coming! They're coming!" Dona Lola turned her back to the group of survivors and outstretched her arms to the thundering sky above.

With her back turned, it would have been a perfect opportunity to rush her. It could be done. Most of the survivors were armed with guns. But they were too preoccupied with what was about to happen to do anything. Besides, they knew that man-made weapons like guns and knives would have no effect on the dozens of Oilers all around them. It was hopeless. That much was becoming clear fast.

The air in front of them began to shimmer and glow a brilliant white. The very fabric of space was torn aside so that these "visitors" could appear and show themselves. Dona Lola fell on her face and prostrated herself upon the ground as the air glittered. She began to speak solemnly in another language. It was difficult to tell because her face was mashed against the ground, but Scully thought she could identify the language. She thought it might be Navajo.

The bright white light began to fade and when it went out altogether, several beings stood where just a moment before there had been nothing. There were at least twenty of them. Some were very tall, nearly seven feet, but the majority was tiny, probably no more than waist-height to an average adult. They wore no clothing of any kind and their skin was an ashen gray color. Their bodies were lean and graceful. Their fingers were nearly as long as their hands, but full of dexterity. Their large heads were completely out of proportion to their thin bodies. They only had a razor-thin slit for a mouth and no lips whatsoever. There was no semblance of any kind of human nose, either.

But what struck the terrified humans gathered together most were the eyes. They were pitch-black and took up most of the face. They were slanted slightly upward, which conveyed to the humans a sense of almost god-like intelligence. Yes, the eyes were the most horrifying things of all. They looked as if they could peer past your skin and into your soul.

Everyone around Scully had their own reaction to the arrival of the Colonists. Jim started to breathe heavily and shook his head slowly from side to side, his eyes huge disks of astonishment. Next to him, Debbie put a trembling hand to her mouth and began to chew on the tips of her fingers. William's mouth was agape. The girl with the blue streaks in her hair cursed under her breath. Alfeo repeated the same phrase over and over again: "You gotta be joking. You _got_ ta be joking." Bryce and Elijah simply stood in silence, their eyes dividing time between the Colonists and the Space-Palace above. The rest of the survivors had a mixture of these reactions.

Scully felt a hand slip into hers. She looked and saw Mulder, who gave her tiny fractured smile. She returned it as best she could and slipped her arm around his waist. As she did so, she caught a glimpse of Marita. Even she, who was usually blasé about such things, looked frightened upon meeting the mysterious Colonists face to face.

And when Marita looked frightened, you knew you were in trouble.

One of the taller aliens moved forward and put a long slender hand upon Dona Lola's shoulder. The woman looked up, her eyes moist with respectful tears. The alien moved its head to the side and Dona Lola nodded her head gratefully. The Colonist then motioned for her to rise, and she did so with a series of deep bows.

"Gotta be joking," Alfeo kept mumbling. "Gotta be joking."

Dona Lola was now gesturing toward Scully and the others. She was talking hurriedly in Navajo, making wild hand signals in the air. The Colonists turned their expressionless faces toward the survivors and Scully felt a chill slither up her spine. She found it hard to believe that at one time she had denied the existence of extra-terrestrials. Now innocent she had been back then. How closed-minded of her to only accept what she could touch or see or prove into existence with science. Now the reality of aliens seemed as natural as anything. They were as real as the laws of physics. They were as solid as the rocks upon a mountainside.

Scully wished she could revert back to the time she had been so naïve. When she had never given a thought to the existence of aliens.

But regardless of what anybody thought, they were real. They were here. And right now it seemed as if the leader was having an intense one-sided conversation with Dona Lola. The woman would speak, then pause. Then speak again.

After a while, she stopped talking and bowed again. She then turned to the survivors and grinned. Beside her, the tall Colonist turned its attention to the humans as well.

_You. _

As one, the crowd of survivors jumped with a gasp. Somebody had spoken to them. But not loud. Not using vocal cords. It had been the alien. It was talking to them inside their heads. Telepathy.

_You humans gathered there. You are relics of a time long since passed. We are your masters. We created your race from nothingness. With our hands, science and magics, we created you. Your lives, your existence, the thing you call your "soul" – these things are ours to do with as we wish. Did we not create you? And just as we created you, it is within our power now to erase and wipe you out. _

Scully grimaced and shook her head feverishly from side to side. Why wouldn't that voice shut up?! Why wouldn't it go away?! The telepathic voice was beautiful and melodic; a fusion of a man and woman's, but it was so loud! It rung inside Scully's head like a gong or a bell, driving out all of her own thoughts. And the fact that it had invaded her own brain to begin with left her feeling dirty and soiled. Her privacy had been invaded once again.

The Colonist took a graceful, leaping step forward. _We have come to reclaim this planet, that which is ours by birthright. Your race tended to it during our absence, but we have returned and you have outlived your usefulness. Had you not resisted the coming dawn, your deaths would have been relatively painless. But as it was, you held onto foolish notions of victory. Now you see opposition is futile. As punishment for your recklessness, your deaths shall be slow and painful._

On cue, a wail arose all around them. But it did not come from any of the humans gathered. It came from the Oilers. All of them, the ones in business wear, the ones in Army fatigues, each and every one of them were writhing around in pain. Their eyes were no longer the black eyes of the possessed and infected, but the eyes of a terrified human being. They raised their rubbery hands to the throats and tried to scream, but all that would come out was a gurgling noise. They arched their backs backward, stretching to an impossible angle. Their arms flailed wildly about. Then-

With a moist crunch and a splashing, something _big_ came hurling out of the Oiler's stomachs. They hit the ground and as their human host bodies fell to the ground, the raised their alien faces to the sky and screeched.

These new, immature Colonists were in stark contrast with their elders. Their skin was a sickly slimy pale green. They had the same round black eyes, but their faces were more angular, more animalistic. Their bodies were much more muscular than the frail-looking bodies of the mature Colonists. And their fingers ended in long black talons, which were more than capable of tearing the skin off a human being.

Behind them, the bodies of Oilers lay in pieces. A gaping hole existed where the stomach and chest had once been. It was obvious they were dead. The Oilers had only been gestating tools to aide in the spontaneous re-population of the Earth. And just as they had burst open here, in Mount Weather, so had they done all over the world.

In one instant, five billion people all over the planet died and the globe was immediately home to a new dominant species: The Colonists.

They had successfully re-colonized.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

_Observe! The children of the new master species_. The tall Colonist nodded in the direction of the newly gestated life forms. _They hunger._

Debbie gasped along with several others as the new reptilian aliens began to advance upon them. They lumbered slowly forward, playing with their prey the way a cat might with a mouse. The folds of their mouths slid back to reveal row after row of blade-like fangs. They rubbed their sinewy arms and hands together as they approached the humans, anxious to feast upon a delicious meal.

As the scaly aliens approached, the band of survivors drew closer and closer together until there was nowhere else to go. Scully could feel the tight mass of bodies behind her quiver in fear. Off to the side, Debbie had hold of William and was pressing his face against her body. "Don't look," she was sobbing. "Look away." Jim had hold of both his wife and adoptive son in a hug, squeezing them into a sandwich. His lower lip was trembling and tears were streaming from his eyes in a steady waterfall. Mulder took Scully in his shaking arms and brought her close.

No. It couldn't end like this. She wouldn't let it. Scully pushed away from Mulder and made her way to the front of the tight circle of survivors. Mulder grabbed for her, uttering a quick "What are you doing?!" but Scully paid him no attention. With her newly discovered immortality, she could fight the aliens off without fear of death. But there were so many of them. Already, the beastly immature Colonists had their tiny group surrounded on all sides. There was no way Scully could keep them all at bay. There were simply too many.

_William_, she decided. _No matter what happens, William is my number one priority._

She outstretched her arms and legs as far as they would go. She looked as if she was about to start with a series of jumping jacks. But she had to make herself as big as possible, better to function has a human shield.

Beyond the slithering troops of the greenish aliens with their claws and fangs, and standing off to the side of the other, more delicate fully-grown Colonists, was Dona Lola. She had her arms crossed and her head was tilted to one side. One of her trademark sadistic grins was evident on her face as she prepared to watch the last bit of humanity left on Earth go up in flames.

There was no time for Scully to think about her promise to kill her. For the reptilian aliens were drawing up on their hind-legs. As they stored up momentum, they made a chilling high-pitched hissing noise. Feral. Strong. Bloodthirsty.

Scully gulped. A lump had formed in her throat, but she paid it no mind. This was it. _William. Just protect William if you can't protect anybody else._

And then, like a coiled-up spring, the aliens pounced. They flew through the air hissing and screeching, their talons fully extended, their fangs bared for all to see.

They were no more than three feet away when a series of gut-wrenching explosions shattered the air. In a flash, the pouncing aliens erupted into flame and dropped like a stone back to the ground. The crowd of survivors screamed in surprise at the sudden incineration. Scully turned this way and that in a frenzy, making sure that all the "baby Colonists" were dead. They were. They were nothing more than charred blackened ash piles.

What had just happened? What the-

"LOOK!!" Somebody screamed.

Scully and the others looked up just in time to see another ship come careening out of nowhere. It was circular instead of triangular and was of cruder construction than the others. It dipped low in the sky, dodging lightning strikes, and clipped the side of one of the Colonists' triangle spaceships – sending it hurtling through the air, off-course.

The circular ship was joined with others like it. They came flying in from every direction, north, south, east, and west. There were dozens of them. They swept through the sky on crash-courses with the other ships. Some made direct hits, but more often than not, the triangle ships were able to easily out-maneuver them.

There was no time for the human survivors to register this new information that was overloading their brains. They just stood stupidly in their tight circle, watching the amazing air ballet that was unfolding in the raging skies above.

Suddenly, a savage battle cry emanated from off to the side. Scully turned her attention to this new commotion and saw a stampede of dark-haired, faceless men clad in black jumpsuits charging down the forest hills. The alien Rebels! They were swinging their arms crazily and cried out orders to each other in their native language. They ran down the side of the steep hill like a big black wave, hooting and hollering – ready for war.

Scully's heart leapt with new hope at the sight of these alien reinforcements. Never before in her life had she been so overjoyed to see anyone or anything. The bedlam of the charging Rebels and their ships attacking broke the attention of their captors.

"Run!" Mulder screamed over the pulsating explosions as the ships exchanged invisible cannon fire with one another.

Scully couldn't agree more. She echoed Mulder's order to the rest of the group, and they moved together as one big blob toward the Mount Weather complex up ahead.

They were about halfway there when a sequence of high-pitched squeals stopped them dead. Across from the forested hill where the Rebels dropped in at, a new surge of reptilian Oiler-derived Colonists came flooding into the area. The tiny group of humans found themselves stuck smack dab in between the two charging alien species.

Chaos erupted. The tight-knit group fractured off into multiple sections. Part continued on for the gates of Mount Weather while others, confused by the ruckus, became confused and turned around and ran back _into _the mayhem.

It was every man for himself now.

…

In the uproar, Scully lost sight of Mulder. He disappeared into the churning mass of humans and aliens, perhaps never to be seen again. But she did still have an eye on William. The boy had lost his parents and was standing in the middle of the road leading to the Mount Weather complex with a bewildered expression on his face. Scully ran forward and took him roughly by the hand. Without a word, she pulled him along at breakneck speed toward the safety of the military instillation ahead. She was pulling at him so hard, and running so fast, that she was in danger of popping his arm out of the socket. But that was of no consequence now. The tunnel leading into the bowels of Mount Weather was straight ahead! If they just kept running they could make it!

She was vaguely aware of William yelling at her as they fled. He was saying something about finding Jim and Debbie. Scully didn't answer his questions. It wasn't that she didn't care; it was just that she could only think about one thing at a time right now and that one thing on her mind was getting her child to safety.

"SCREEE!!!!!"

Whipping her head around, Scully saw an immature Colonist bounding toward them both. It was using both its front arms and its hind legs to cut the distance between _it _and _them_ in half. A long black tongue darted out between the two rows of fangs furiously and its mouth was stretched out wide to accommodate for its future meal.

"William, keep running!!" Scully cried as she prepared to face down the alien herself. She couldn't see William, but she prayed he was taking her orders.

The alien was coming closer.

_Okay. I can do this._ It wasn't like she had to kill it or anything. She just had to distract it long enough so that William could find a hiding place inside the complex.

The alien was galloping toward her now. But it seemed to be looking beyond her. It wasn't focused on her. William was its prey.

_Over my dead body_, thought Scully.

As the alien whizzed past her, on its way to devour the boy, Scully stuck out her hand and grabbed the creature by its neck. She was momentarily struck by how cold its skin felt. Cold and slimy. But she was snapped back to attention as the alien began to thrash its body about. It was trying to break the hold.

The monster was strong, but Scully's resolve was stronger than the beast's brute muscle and she refused to let go.

When it became clear that the alien wasn't going to be able to toss her off, it decided on another course of action. With a sweeping gesture of its arm, it ripped out Scully's throat and sliced off her left arm in one quick movement.

She fell to the ground, bleeding profusely. She could feel her body shudder and knew she was on the verge of blacking out. Somehow, she willed herself to stay awake. With her good hand, she propped herself up and scanned the horizon for William. Where was he?! She couldn't see! All she could see was a mass of black jumpsuited Rebels intermingled with Colonists and the occasional "Costco Survivor". The Rebels were putting up a good fight, setting the other aliens aflame with their cattle-prod weapons, but it wasn't enough. The Colonists outnumbered them at least 5 to 1 and they were simply too quick to be attacked for the most part.

But where was William? Maybe he had already made it inside! Maybe he was safe!

No such luck. Scully saw him, running frantically past the warring aliens toward the tunnel gates. He was running as fast as his legs could carry him, but it wasn't fast enough. The alien, that just seconds ago had injured Scully, was lunging at him.

Scully tried to scream at him to watch out, but all that came out of her mouth was a soft whistling noise.

William! He didn't have any idea what was behind him. He had no idea he was about to die…

There was no way she would reach him in time to save him, but Scully was determined to try. She got to her feet shakily and took off. She pumped her arms to get the better bang for each step and took huge awkward leaps. But with her damaged (yet healing) throat, she was having difficult breathing and couldn't quite get enough air in her lungs to run fast enough.

Something went hurtling past her head, something long and thin. It shot into the sky ahead and came tumbling down right on top of the alien pursuing William. It made a last-second mid-air adjustment and skewered the creature through the back of the neck. The alien let out an ear-splitting howl and dropped to its knees, trying to dislodge the thing that had punctured its neck. (The thing in question was a sort of mechanical javelin weapon, about four feet long with a thin spade-shape blade on the end of it.)

But after a few seconds of painful yelping, the alien fell facedown into the dirt. Dead.

Scully turned her head and saw a faceless Rebel, his hands still in the position he had used to throw the weapon. She bobbed her head up and down in a hurried "thank-you" nod and took off running once more. Her neck had completely healed by this time (And she had grown a new hand as well. It was an ugly pasty color and was a little smaller than the other, but it was a hand nonetheless.) and she was able to make good time. She grabbed his upper arm and swept him along the battlefield toward Mount Weather.

Once inside the relative safety of the tunnel entrance, Scully allowed herself a quick breather. William was beside her, unhurt. That much was fine and right with the world. And there was Mulder, standing next to Marita and Bryce. When he saw her, he gave her a quick "thank God you're alive" squeeze.

"Where are my parents?" William's eyes bulged in their sockets as he examined the faces around him. "I don't see them! They're still out there! I've gotta find them!" He exclaimed as he took a step back outside.

Mulder seized the boy by the waist and held him fast. "It's too dangerous!"

"Let me go! They're out there! MOM!!! DAD!!!"

Were they out there? Were they really? Scully looked about the few people gathered and saw that Jim and Debbie were not present. She then looked back outside. The night sky was flashing with lighting mixed with flame. Above, the Rebel and Colonist ships duked it out with one another while the enormous Space-Palace oscillated in between them silently. Below, it was a war-zone.

If Jim and Debbie _were_ out there, they were as good as dead.

…

It was a dream. Or more precisely, a nightmare. There was no other explanation. Debbie kept telling herself that as she ran around blindly, not sure which way to turn. The noise was overwhelming! The shrieking of the gray/green aliens, the shouting of the faceless ones, and once every few minutes or so there would be a tremendous explosion as the ships overhead fired upon one another – the sound of which made Debbie's heart sink into her stomach like she was on a roller coaster.

What was she doing here? WHAT in the WORLD was she doing here?! She was just a simple housewife for God's sake! How did she wind up here, amid the battle for Earth? It wasn't real. This wasn't happening.

Something exploded close by, sending mounds of dirt and rock spewing up into the air. Debbie shrieked and fell to the ground. She began to sob. She didn't know what to do! She didn't understand what was happening! She was going crazy! Never in her life had she felt so helpless. All she could do was sit and cry. She wasn't of any use to anybody.

But then she heard a scream off in the distance. It was louder than the explosions or the alien battle cries. And it sounded familiar, too. Debbie got back to her feet and dried her eyes. There was something about that scream that was moving her to action. But what…

Oh. Oh, no!

Jim was there, a good twenty feet away. He had fallen onto his back and was using his hands to crawl away backwards from one of those scary reptile-aliens. The alien had noticed him and was making its way toward him.

All it took was one look at its extended claws and its powerful arms to motivate Debbie. She galloped forward, nearly tripping over upraised rocks and uneven pavement. Her eyes never strayed from her husband. He was screaming bloody murder now and was using his arms as a shield. The alien was crouching low, ready to pounce.

If only she had a weapon! Anything!

Yes!! Up ahead, she spotted something glittering on the ground near the outstretched hand of a dead Rebel. It was one of those cattle-prod things! She didn't take time to retrieve it by stopping and bending down. Instead, she kept running and scooped it up with her hand as she passed by it.

Debbie took a quick glance at the strange weapon in her hands. It was silver and pretty compact. But how in the blazes did it work? There were two tiny red buttons near the top of the thing and she franticly pressed them both. Nothing happened. Wasn't it supposed to shoot fire or something?! Why wasn't it working? What was wrong?!

"AHHHH!!"

Jim.

The muscles in the alien's legs flexed in slow motion and Debbie knew that if she was going to act, she had to act _now_.

Screaming like some mad cavewoman, Debbie swung the cattle-prod weapon like a baseball bat. The tip connected solidly with the side of the alien's head. There was a soft _tick_ noise; a shower of orange sparks and the monster erupted into flame. Both Jim and Debbie watched in horror as the thing fell backwards, dissolving into a pile of green goo.

"You okay?" Debbie cried.

Jim nodded, wide-eyed, and got up off the ground.

Debbie jammed the cattle-prod into her husband's hands. "Here. Take it. I. . . don't want it anymore."

He took it and off they ran toward Mount Weather, hand in hand.

…

"We got to do something!" Alfeo pumped the sawed-off shotgun in his hands and starting barking orders at the rest of the armed survivors in the tunnel. "I'm gonna divide us into squads. Squad A, you'll go out in a few minutes. Squad B, you go after them. Squad C and D, split off into two and head for opposite ends of the field. Okay, let's move out and-"

Marita looked at him as if he had lost his mind. "What are you doing?"

"Planning a counterattack! You're in Squad C."

The night air outside exploded into a ball of flame. The temperature inside the cool cave-tunnel rose about twenty degrees. Marita and the others crouched low instinctively. "Don't be an idiot!" She cried, more vocal than she had been in ages. "You wouldn't stand a chance out there!"

"We have guns! Guns! We can take 'em out!"

"Listen to me! Guns won't have any effect! The only way to kill one is-"

But Alfeo wasn't in the mood for a lecture on alien anatomy. Shotgun in hand, he stormed out of the tunnel and out onto the flaming battlefield.

"Somebody stop him!" Marita yelled to anyone brave enough to go after the brash young man. "The idiot's going to get himself killed!"

Just as the last words were out of her mouth, there came a deep _BLAM _from outside. Heads turned to find Alfeo standing toe-to-toe with a mature gray Colonist. Judging by the loud popping noise and the smoke curling out of the barrel of the shotgun, it could be assumed that he had fired upon the E.T.

Sure enough, a bright green liquid began to bubble up from the Colonist's wound. Alfeo's face was aglow with an absurd amount of pride. He had just killed an alien! But then his smile faltered. His dark eyes blinked rapidly. The shotgun dropped from his hand and he started to gasp for air. The Colonist, uninjured, walked calmly forward. It's toxic blood oozing from multiple cuts caused by the shotgun shrapnel.

Alfeo cried out in pain and clawed at his eyes with his fingers as the toxin poisoned the air.

"I'm going after him," Mulder announced.

"It's too late," Marita said. "You'll be affected too! Mulder. Mulder!"

But it was no use. He was already sprinting across the field. A brave man, but also foolish. Didn't he know that once he got within five yards of the alien, he'd succumb to the same poison? Marita didn't understand his devotion to a man he had only first met a few days ago.

She looked away. Maybe they would have a better chance if she weren't looking. But that was foolish.

All at once, there came a loud pop and a sizzling noise. The crowd around her broke out into cheers. Marita turned and saw Jim and Debbie rushing toward them. Jim had one of the Rebel's weapons in his hands and had just used it to set the bleeding Colonist alight. Mulder was then able to make his way to Alfeo unharmed. He scooped up the other man in his arms and carried him back to the tunnel.

The four of them were able to make it to the complex safely. Once William had seen that his adoptive parents were alive and well, he hugged both of them with teary eyes. "I'm so glad you're safe!"

"We're not safe," Marita said, breaking up the happy moment. "We're still in danger here. We need to move further inside. Now!"

At the sound of her authoritative voice, the crowd rushed deeper into the underground tunnel. A dozen different corridors branched off from the main shaft, but Marita didn't take any of them. She led the group charge. From the way she was running, it was clear she knew where she was going.

"In here! Now!" Marita threw open a thick metal door in the rock that led to a stairwell. The others rushed past her and when she saw that nobody else was coming, she closed the door behind her.

The noise from outside, the explosions and the screaming, was muffled in the stairway. In fact they were so distant, it was hard to believe that a war was going on outside at all.

Once things were settling down a little, Scully spoke up to ask if anyone was injured. Mulder nodded and presented her Alfeo. The man was breathing heavily. The skin around his eyes and nose was red and puffy. Blistered and swollen almost shut.

"The blood," Mulder said. He didn't have to elaborate.

"How long was he exposed to it?" Scully asked, moving closer to the wounded man.

"Not long. Maybe a few seconds."

"Good." Scully put two of her fingers to the side of Alfeo's throat. "His pulse is a little thready, but he'll be okay." She looked around. "Anybody else hurt?"

The people crammed together in the stairwell were silent. They had a few cuts and scrapes but nothing deadly serious. They had been lucky. The few survivors gathered were only a fraction of the 30 or more people they had before.

Noticing this for himself, Mulder looked up suddenly. "Elijah. Has anybody seen Elijah?"

Bryce gulped loudly. "He's dead."

Mulder turned on the other man swiftly. "How do you know that? Did you actually see him? Don't say that unless you-"

"I saw him." Bryce patted Mulder on the shoulder in a fatherly way. "He's dead."

Mulder hung his head and sank against the gleaming white walls of the stairwell. "It has to end tonight," he whispered. His eyes met with Scully. "I'm so tired. I don't have the energy to live even one more day like this. It _has_ to end tonight."

No sooner had he said that when the stairway lights went out, plunging everything into complete murky darkness. In one giant voice, the survivors screamed at the sudden absence of light. The only person who remained even slightly calm was Marita. And it was her silence that allowed her to hear something that the others weren't able to.

"Sshh!!" She called out over the commotion. "Did you hear that?"

Jim perked his head up like a dog. "Yeah. A crunching noise? But what is it?"

There was no time to answer his question. Without warning, the top of the stairway came twisting off and everyone inside was caught up into a swirling vortex.

…

In the split second after the roof of the stairwell was blown off, Scully could clearly see the Space-Palace hovering in the night sky overhead. It had positioned itself directly above the complex, its many levels spinning, the odd symbols glowing purple against its glossy black surface. The spikes running along its bottom had extended further out and bright pink bolts of energy crackled between them, forming an electric web.

Then came the deafening screeching of metal as the stairs and landing erupted beneath them. The walls collapsed inward and twisted upward. And soon thereafter, Scully felt herself being lifted into the air. She swept skyward, utterly weightless. As she was tossed head over heels further and further up, she caught a quick look at Mount Weather down below. Or what used to be Mount Weather. There was nothing left now but a giant crater.

A toilet floated dreamily by. It was followed by a bookshelf, still loaded down with books. Scully's eyes tracked it as it rocketed up. It zoomed into the sky until it was just a dot against the sparking web. Then – POP! – and it was forever gone.

So that was it. Everyone and everything had been caught up in some kind of tractor-beam. The heavier the item, the faster it flew up. And when it reached the spike's electric rings. . . POP! like a mosquito flying into an outdoor bug lamp. This was bad news for Scully. Her small frame and short height meant that she was gaining altitude twice as fast as everyone else. She had to hold onto something heavy to slow herself down.

The fact that she couldn't die was lost amidst the chaos. A primal survival instinct had temporarily overtaken her brain.

She shot past a small bolder spinning in mid-air and latched onto it. The rock provided an anchor – she wasn't hurtling up quite as fast – but it still wasn't heavy enough. What else then?

Aha! Down below, a thick blue metal door spun lazily skyward. If Scully could jump to it, it could provide better weight. But she would have to time it just right.

For the briefest moment, the door and the boulder aligned perfectly in the air. Scully made a daring leap and grasped the doorknob. She was able to pull herself down with great effort. The gravitational pull generated by the Space-Palace was tremendous.

Moe debris flew past her. The pop-pop-popping noise above grew louder. And then came Mulder. He went speeding past a mile a minute. But Scully's reflexes were sharp. She darted out her hand and caught him by the wrist. The sudden jolt that came from Mulder's abrupt stop was enough to dislocate her arm, but she paid it no attention.

"Mulder!" She screamed above the pandemonium. "Lower yourself down!"

He flapped his arms and legs madly in the air, trying to swim toward the door. But it wasn't working. He was too heavy. Scully could feel her grip on the doorknob slip.

"Mulder!"

"I can't!"

"Lower yourself down! Come on!" Scully gritted her teeth and tried her best to reel him down to her like a fish. It was actually working, and then –

Her fingers slipped from around the doorknob and she felt herself crashing upward. The door, unrestrained by weight now, went blasting into the air. Up, up, up. POP!

Scully and Mulder tumbled through the air like deranged acrobats. Their hands were still intertwined. The crackling and popping of the electric web drove out all other sounds and thoughts. Scully could feel her hair stand on end with static electricity.

There were no other things nearby to grab onto to slow their ascent. Nothing stood between them and the latticework of death overhead.

Suddenly, Scully felt a pair of strong arms around her waist. And they were pulling her down and off to the side. But who was doing this? She looked down, but saw nobody holding her. But then she noticed William. He was down on the ground, surrounded by most everyone else. His blue eyes flashed as he used to telekinesis to lower Mulder and Scully to safety.

The sensation of being pulled in two different directions was a nauseating one. But once the two of them were free from the Palace's artificial gravity field, things became smoother and they were gently laid upon the ground.

"You guys okay?" William asked.

Mulder and Scully each gave him looks. Did he really just ask that?

"Are we all here? We all safe?"

"Bryce!" The blue-streaked girl screamed, grabbed William by the shoulders and shook the poor kid hard. "He's up there! Help him!"

…

Bryce was a mere speck zooming through the air, mere feet away from the energy bolts. He wasn't alone either. A woman in overalls was beneath him. William tried to make contact with them both, but couldn't. They were too spread apart. He had no choice but to go after each of them separately.

William sent him mind out, hurtling through across the sky with incredible speed. He made contact with Bryce and hauled him out of the tractor beam and tossed him roughly to the ground. The man made an "Umph!" sound and cried out in pain. But there was no time to be gentle. The other woman was in danger!

He sent his mind out again. He pictured his telekinesis as glowing white bands – they stretched out for the woman. Just a little more! A few more inches! She looked so scared. But there was no reason for her to be afraid. William could feel her in his mind. Contact! All he had to do was-

POP!

What had just happened? William didn't understand at first. The woman had been there one minute and gone the next. There was nothing left of her but a psychic afterglow of sorts. Then it made terrible sense. The woman was gone. Dead. Atomized against the pink web.

Everyone on the ground was silent. They didn't know how to react. After a while, William felt a hand on his back. "You tried," Jim said. "That's all you could've done."

Yes, he had tried. But there was still more that could be done. Something had to be done or this madness, this war, would last forever. . . or as long as humans existed upon the Earth. But what else could he do?

William looked around him with growing dismay. The Rebels were being defeated. Colonists, mature and not, walked the battlefield casually. The Rebel's ships were being blasted from the sky. It was futile. How could you defeat an enemy such as this?

His eyes settled on a piece of glass embedded in the rocky ground. It was pretty big and he could see his full reflection in it. His face was blackened with soot, his brown hair with the red highlights stuck up in every direction. His shirt was nothing more than tatters hanging on a thin frame. But his eyes. . . . what was wrong with his eyes? They were still blue, but their color was muted. A white film swam over them. Like swirling milk.

An idea came to him like a bolt of lightning and he took off from the rest of the group. He heard his father call after him, but he couldn't stop. He had to go through with his plan before he lost his nerve. He just hoped it worked. It had to.

Now where was Dona Lola?

…

She was on the battlefield amid the turmoil. And she wasn't happy. This wasn't the way she had envisioned the great re-colonization. Mulder and Scully (and the blasted child) had ruined everything! They weren't going to win, of course. It was just annoying that they had disrupted the Glorious Welcoming Ceremony. Why had they come here in the first place? Did they really think that they had a chance at winning? That must be it.

Humans these days were idiots. Back when Dona Lola had first been created, the human race was just blossoming into being. When the Colonists first breathed the breath of life into her lungs, there were no more than 50 humans on the planet and the Earth itself was a wild uncontrolled place. Back then you had to be smart. You had to be strong, too. Humans back then had no time for childish notions or silly ideas. That's what upset Dona Lola the most about the Earth in the 21st century. Humanity now expected everything to fall in their laps. They thought that just because they wanted something, it would happen.

As she reminisced, she saw a small form silhouetted against the fiery horizon moving swiftly off to the east. It was that William boy. He was running like his pants were on fire for some reason.

Seeing that boy again made Dona Lola's blood boil. He was the source of all this insanity. His power was unbelievable. And he was the fulfillment of the Prophecy. The ancient Anasazi Prophecy that spoke of a man who would fight the coming plague and who would emerge victorious. Before the child's birth it was assumed that Mulder was this man. But they were wrong. It hadn't been him after all, but his son. William. But by the time they figured this out, it was too late. After a few botched kidnapping attempts, the mother had sent the infant off beyond the Syndicate's reach. If only they had gotten hold of him while he was young and impressionable! What a great ally he could've made with his abilities. He could have been strong! Second only to the Colonists themselves!

If only. If only.

But he had been corrupted by idiotic human emotions like love. And for that, he had to die.

Dona Lola ran after William. She could already feel the boy's neck in her hands as she slowly crushed the life out of him. In her mind's eye, she pictured his stupid little face growing purple and his eyes rolling back in his head. If she couldn't kill Mulder and Scully, she was more than willing to settle for their child. Ha. The death of a child. What greater sorrow could there be for a parent?

Something blew up in the sky and Dona Lola looked up to see a Rebel ship come crashing toward the ground in flames. She jumped aside just in time. When she regained her senses, she felt something trickling down her cheek. Blood. A flying piece of the broken ship must've struck her. She cursed loudly. Thanks to the distraction, she had lost sight of the boy. Well, he couldn't have gone far.

Something collided into her and Dona Lola fell down hard on her back. A man, balding and dressed almost entirely in denim, was straddling her. His face was bright red and a gun was clenched tightly in one hand. And it was leveled at her head.

"You!" The man (whose name was Jim, Dona Lola remembered) screamed. "You caused all this! Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you here and now!"

The gun grew closer and Dona Lola put on her best damsel-in-distress face. She began to sob. "Please don't hurt me! Please! I – I'm a _woman_!"

The hand that held the pistol dropped slightly. The blazing anger in the man's eyes dissipated to an extent. Dona Lola seized upon this opportunity and snatched his gun away.

"Thanks. You're such a gentleman." She pointed the gun at Jim and pulled the trigger. After the explosion of gunfire, he howled in pain and tumbled over backward. It was a mystery as to whether he was dead or just injured. But who cared, really? He wasn't anybody important.

Now that that unpleasant business had been taken care of, the search for William continued. Ah. There he was. He had climbed up on a towering pile of rubble that had at one time been the Mount Weather Assembly Room.

Dona Lola fired her new weapon at the kid, but there was no flash and no bang. Nothing but a dry click. Hmph. No more bullets. Well, that was fine. She preferred to kill him with her own hands anyway. It was cozier that way.

She tossed the gun over her shoulder and tiptoed toward William. He was scanning the area in front of him and was totally oblivious to her approach. With a ninja's stealth, Dona Lola climbed up onto the heap of metal and concrete and smiled. She could rush him and snap his neck in a second, but she wanted to have a little chat with the boy first.

"Hello, William."

The child turned around calmly. "Hello."

It was a little disappointing that he hadn't screamed in fear when he saw her, but Dona Lola wasn't going to let that rain on her parade. She intended to enjoy this. "I've been looking for you," she said pleasantly.

"And I've been looking for you, too."

The boy's nonchalant attitude was irritating. He was so smug and calm. Dona Lola wanted him to cry a bit. "I think I just killed your daddy," she said casually. "Your pretend daddy, not the real one."

William just stared back at her, blank-faced. No, that wasn't entirely true. As the sky rained burning chunks of metal, his face was lit in a fierce orange glow. His mouth was nothing but a thin line of fury and his eyebrows were bunched together like he was deep in thought. His hands were clenched and shaking. But he didn't utter a word.

Dona Lola snapped. "Don't you get it?! You're going to _DIE_! Doesn't that scare you at all?! I'm going to kill you in two seconds! Cry! Whine! Beg for mercy! Do something, you stupid idiot!!!"

Nothing.

Why? Why?! Did the kid know something she didn't? Or was he just too dumb to realize what was going to happen? Dona Lola was about to strike him when she noticed something hanging around his neck. A tiny gold cross. The sight of that thing dangling on the end of the chain repulsed her. It filled her with a rage she had never felt before in her entire life. That stupid piece of jewelry symbolized everything that had gone wrong with the human race.

She snapped her arm out, clutched the little cross in her hand and yanked. The golden chain went taunt against William's neck and then snapped in two.

Dona Lola brought her hand up close to her face and studied the thing. Just a simple gold cross. Probably not even real gold, either. Probably just some cheap little trinket somebody bought at the local K-Mart. And yet, there was something behind the inexpensive piece of jewelry that made Dona Lola's stomach churn with disgust. An idea. A fool's idea of faith.

"What is this stupid thing?!" She screamed, shaking the necklace in William's face. "Is it a good luck charm or something? A talisman? Is it a nice little reminder that Jesus loves you?" She threw her head back and laughed into the falling sky. "News flash for you, kid. This thing I have in my hands is nothing more than a cheap piece of trash you paid five dollars to hang around your neck."

And with that, Dona Lola slung it off the pile of rubble. The small cross glittered once as it turned over in the air, and then it was gone. Gone forever into the night.

"See that?" Dona Lola asked, mocking the still silent boy in front of her. "That's what I think about God! Let me tell you something! I've lived millions of years. Maybe billions. And not once have I ever seen something that would convince me that there's some kind of Man up in the clouds looking out for us. Sorry to burst the buddle. But He doesn't exist."

"You sound pretty sure."

Blinking, Dona Lola looked down at William. Those were the first words he had spoken. What a shame they would be his last. Too bad he couldn't have thought of something more inspiring.

"I am sure. It's just a figment of someone's imagination. Think about it. Shouldn't He be here? I mean, the world is ending! It's gone to Hell! So why isn't He here saving everyone? Answer me that. I defy you. I defy you _and_ your faith!"

Suddenly, the night sky went a dazzling blue and the air rippled with electricity. Dona Lola felt the whole back side of her body go hot. There was a roaring _Zzrktt_ noise followed by a tremendous splitting sound.

Bewildered, Dona Lola turned her upper body around. Behind her, a tree had been split down the middle by lightning. The top of its Y-shaped husk burned in a captivating array of blue and white flames.

There was something about that fire… Something that terrified her. Something she couldn't take her eyes off of.

In the second it took Dona Lola to turn around, William had already pounced. He shot forward and hurled the woman to the ground. She let loose with a startled cry and jerked her body to and fro, trying to crawl out from under him. William was a skinny kid, only 70 ponds at the most, but he was able to keep her pinned down. His telekinesis acted as a weight upon her chest.

The next part was the scary part.

William rolled his eyes back into his head and summoned forth the white liquid. He could feel it rise in his chest like mucus. There was a terrible urge to gag. And then it came gushing out of his mouth, eyes, and nose. A gooey white milky substance.

Dona Lola's body stiffened in fear as William's eyes clouded over. Then the first few drops of the ooze began to fall from his opened mouth and she began to scream. It splashed upon her expensive blouse and began to slither its way up toward her face in white ribbons. She knew what it was headed for, so she clamped her mouth shut with a loud snap.

The liquid moved from fabric to the naked skin of her neck and Dona Lola couldn't help but to scream out again. It felt warm. It felt alive. It crawled up onto her face and forced its way through and into her mouth. She felt it as it slid down her esophagus – thick, creamy, and foul. She could feel it as it entered her blood stream and used those narrow channels as passage to the brain.

_HELP ME!!! HELP ME PLEASE ANYBODY!!!_ Dona Lola screamed the telepathic plea out in Navajo as loud as she could. She knew the Colonists could hear it, so why weren't they rushing to her aide? Why weren't they coming to her rescue? Could it be that-

And then Dona Lola's vision went hazy as a thousand white streams washed over the cornea and blinded her forever.

…

William sat up shakily and let out a deep breath that had been in holding since the dawn of time, it seemed. That had felt … weird. But had it worked? Dona Lola was down at his feet, a crumpled up mess of a body. But her eyes were open. And a think white film was swimming over her dark irises. Yes. It had worked. The first part of the plan had, anyway. Now for the grand finale.

"Get up," he commanded with both his voice and his mind. And Dona Lola got to her feet with the jerky motions of a rusty robot. She glared at him, not really seeing anything. Her body was stiff and her gaze remained steadfast, never blinking.

"Go back to where you came from."

Dona Lola didn't nod or acknowledge that she had heard the order in any way. She just climbed down from the pile of rubble and entered the smoldering ruins of Mount Weather. Once there, she looked up at the spinning Space-Palace overhead. She remained that way for some time, perhaps having a telepathic conversation with the inhabitants onboard, perhaps not. But in any case, she was a puppet. And William was pulling her strings – strings made of white liquid.

The stormy sky was suddenly aglow with a vicious purple light. It flowed from the Space-Palace in intense waves of luminescence; waves so bright, William had to turn away to keep from being blinded. But before he had averted his eyes completely, he saw a small shape lift off the ground and float through the sky before being swallowed up by the Palace.

Dona Lola. They had accepted her back into the fold. She was now onboard the Palace. William could feel her inside his mind. Now all he had to do was detonate her like a bomb. She would infect the Colonists onboard with this New Purity (that was what William had taken to calling the liquid he had used to control Dona Lola), and then with the Colonists infected, the new "virus" would spread amongst the aliens all over the globe, killing all of them.

That was the theory, anyway. And why shouldn't it work? When Dona Lola had infected William with the Black Oil, his body had been able to change it – to mutate it somehow into something else. This new product, the so-called "New Purity", was tied to William as the Black Oil had been tied to the aliens. And if he was able to infect one of them with it, he had a good feeling the NP would win the viral fight with the Oil and subsequently infect all the other aliens as well. After all, wasn't the Black Oil omnipresent in a way?

Well, the moment had come to find out. It was now or never. He could see Dona Lola in his mind, standing mere inches away from a Colonist.

"Do it," he said.

…

Scully was on the ground with the other survivors, treating Jim's gunshot wound. She had taken off his shirt and had torn it into shreds, using the pieces of torn fabric to act as a makeshift bandage and tourniquet to stop the bleeding. The bullet had entered the shoulder and was still lodged in there, but the injury wasn't too serious.

What _was_ serious, however, were the dozens of Colonists surrounding them. The Rebels had come to their aide and had formed a defense perimeter around them, but they weren't holding up well. The Colonists were swatting them down like flies. It was only a matter of time before they would break through the line and kill them all.

And they were about to do just that, (the Rebel defense had been slaughtered and was only down to a measly five men) when they stopped in their tracks and tilted their heads up into the sky like they were receiving radio signals only they could interpret. Scully exchanged a confused look with Mulder, who returned the look right back. He didn't have a clue what was going on either.

Then the attacking aliens began to twitch. Their big black eyes squeezed shut; they put their long elegant hands to their heads and screamed. It was a horrible sound, unlike anything the cowering earthlings had ever heard before. Totally inhuman. It sounded like a mix between a pig's squeal and an infant's cry.

The Colonists all over the battlefield sank to their knees and thrashed about in pain, screaming toward the heavens. Scully could do nothing but just stare about in wonderment. What was going on? One minute, they were perfectly fine. The next-

"What's wrong with 'em?" Bryce cried over the blood-curdling screams. His hands were pressed to the sides of his face much like the Colonists were doing.

"I don't know!" Mulder exclaimed.

Scully gently laid Jim on the ground and looked about for the source of the alien's torment. She saw nothing but Colonists in pain, thousands of them – a sea of gray writing and rippling upon the dirt. Up above, their ships were flying erratically in crazy loops and turns and sickening nose-dives.

What was going on?

Then, in answer to her question, Scully caught sight of William standing high above the rest of them on a pile of debris. He was looking out straight ahead, entranced. His long hair flew about him wildly as if he was caught in some kind of tornado.

"William!" She screamed.

Her cry caught the attention of Jim, Debbie and Mulder and they all called out to the boy. They somehow knew he was doing this to the aliens.

Scully ran to him. "William! What are you doing?!"

_I'm doing my job_, came the clear voice of her son. It was a telepathic one, but unlike the Colonists, the voice of his mind was soft and soothing. _This is my destiny. Don't you see?_

"But what are you doing?" Mulder asked. He had heard the voice too.

_I'm reaching out to all of them. To all the aliens throughout the world. But there are so many of them. Billions. And I have to make contact with every single one of them._

The animal cries of the Colonists rose to a warbling crescendo and their bodies began to split open, spewing their familiar green blood along with a milky white ooze onto the ground. Up above, their triangle ships fell from the sky and came plummeting toward the Earth in fireballs.

"He's doing it!" Cried Alfeo joyfully. "The kid's doing it!"

Everyone broke out into applause as the aliens dissolved into stinking piles of bubbling green goo and the ships dropped from the air like stones. But Scully didn't join in. She was focused on William. He looked like he was in pain.

"William?" She asked.

_There's so many of them! I have to get all of 'em. Each and …. every …. one._

Something was wrong. His telepathic voice was forced and choppy. Scully looked at the boy atop the debris pile with growing trepidation. William's face was bunched up like he had taken a whiff of something unpleasant. He was bent forward at a sharp angle, his hair swirling around his face as the air around him spun faster and faster.

"William!"

But there was no response this time. Nothing but static.

Scully ran forward a little and stopped. Something _was_ wrong. William was convulsing now. His head was jerking so severely from side to side; it looked as if he would snap his own neck. His mouth was open, gasping for air. His hands were rigid claws. His face – that was the worst of it – his face was sunken and his skin had taken on a leathery appearance. Ugly purple circles grew below his eyes.

Motivated by the seriousness of the situation, Scully shot forward once again, only to be stopped by Marita.

"What are you doing?" The other woman asked.

"I've got to help him! He's seizing! Look!" Scully jerked her head toward William, who was now bleeding from his eyes, ears, and nose. He had collapsed upon the rubble, but was still shaking.

She tried to wiggle out of Marita's grip, but she held firm. "He's made contact with the aliens all over the world," she said. "Just hold off on helping him for a little longer, and it'll all be over with!"

"No! I've got to help him!" Scully tried to sprint forward but Marita still had a tight grip on her. "LET ME GO!!" She trashed her arm back suddenly, felt it connect with something, and Marita's grip went slack.

Scully ran forward, calling out for her son with tears in her eyes. He was still seizing, but by now his jerking was slow and rhythmic. Death convulsions.

Scully had just reached the rubble pile and was about to climb, when a strong force hauled her by the back of the shirt she was wearing and tossed her through the air. She sailed backward about twenty feet and crashed to the ground. The wind had been knocked out of her, but other than that, she was fine.

It had been William. He had tossed her back. He was so close to winning the war; he wouldn't let anything stop him. Even if that meant his death.

Up above, the purple symbols of the Space-Palace flickered on and off. It's many tiers stopped spinning with a rusty squeak.

But it wouldn't come to that, would it? William couldn't die! Not after all that they'd been through! Scully raised herself up with a grunt. She had to see what would happen next. She had to see William . . . maybe for the last time.

There was a gigantic explosion from overhead and Scully's attention was drawn to that. The Space-Palace had cracked open like an egg. Its fiery innards were exposed and its glossy black hull ripped from its frame. The once great ship came falling to the earth with a mighty roar, spewing smoke and wreckage in its wake. But just before it did, Scully lowered her gaze to William. She saw him. He was lying upon the rubble heap, dead still.

But she only caught a glimpse of him before the remains of the Space-Palace came crashing down on top of him.

…

Monica had been walking for ages, it seemed. Her feet were sore and covered in blisters, her entire body bled from the cuts she suffered from the barbwire, and she was cold. Not just cold, but freezing. The temperature had dropped at least thirty degrees since her escape from the Birthing Center and her lovely potato-sack dress offered absolutely no protection against the fierce chill.

But it didn't matter.

That phrase was quickly becoming her mantra. It didn't matter. Pay it no mind. Do what needed to be done.

John. She had sworn to avenge him.

Monica sighed and sat down on a tree stump. The faint rumbling of thunder could be heard off in the distance. It sounded like the storm was moving on. But that wasn't the only sound she could hear. Beyond the trees, back in the direction of the Center, an otherworldly wail rose up into the sky, reached a fevered pitch, and died down, leaving the woods silent.

Monica held her breath. What had just happened? Something big had happened, that was for sure. She was receiving some serious vibrations that indicated as much.

But whatever it was, it wasn't of immediate importance. Monica shrugged and got up off the stump and was about to move on, when she stopped. A sharp pain was tearing through her stomach – a pain unlike anything she had felt before (and she had become quite the connoisseur of pain during her stay at the Center.) It drove her to the forest floor, and Monica had to fight to keep from screaming. Who knew if the Oilers were still looking for her?

Something wet slid down her leg.

_My water broke_, she thought absentmindedly.

And if that was the case, she had a job to do. Monica spread herself out on the ground and pushed. She took a deep breath and pushed again. She repeated the procedure over and over again until the pain went away and her large belly deflated like a balloon.

She remained lying on the cold dirt for quite some time. She had just given birth. But her delivery date wasn't for another few weeks at the least. So what had just happened? Eventually, Monica got to her feet, still feeling quite woozy, and looked down.

She had given birth to a blob. There was no other way to describe it. It was just a mass of semi-solid green and white goo that looked a little like Silly-Putty. But the more Monica inspected it, the more convinced she became that it had, at one time, been _something_. She could make out a tiny hand sticking out of the gunk, clawed and gray in color. And that was it. There was nothing else that resembled a baby, alien or otherwise.

She had had a miscarriage.

That fact would have devastated the old Monica. The old Monica would've loved even an alien baby. But this new Monica only gazed at the green/white blob of fetal matter with a cold indifference. She gazed at it for only a few seconds before turning and walking away.

No tears feel for her dead child, and that's what it was - her child. It had been an alien baby, true, but half of its DNA belonged to Monica. It was, or had been, as much human as it had been alien. But Monica didn't care about such things. The new Monica only cared about one thing.

John. John and what she would do to the people who hurt him. They were still out there. They had to be. And one day, she would find them and make them suffer. That one thought kept her walking ever forward.

Well, that thought and one other. A memory, really. The memory of her, standing along the seashore, dressed in a simple white dress, looking deep into her lover's crystal blue eyes.

That memory would drive her as long as she could remember it, until her little gray brain cells shriveled up and died with age.

"I will," Monica whispered. Without a pause.

And she continued on, without a destination. With nothing but John's face burned forever into her mind.

…

The Colonists were no more. They had been wiped from the battlefield and not a trace of them remained. Their ships laid in smoldering pieces on the ground. The war was over and humanity had somehow emerged the victor. It would have been a perfect happy ending but for one thing.

William was nowhere to be seen. He was buried somewhere beneath the rubble of the Space-Palace. Everyone who was able was on their hands and knees, digging through the wreckage. Even Jim, with his bad shoulder, remained at his wife's side, both furiously throwing pieces of spaceship over their shoulders as they looked for the body of their son.

That was what they were looking for. A body. There was no way he could've survived that massive thing falling right down on top of him. But still, they continued to search. If only for a body. Something to bury.

They had been looking for hours, it seemed, when a voice rose up and announced, "Found him!"

Everyone else dropped what they were doing and ran over to Bryce, who was standing over the bloody and beaten William. Half the boy's body was still pinned under a large piece of black glass and it took the combined strength of four men to lift it up off of him.

Scully dropped down to William's side and began to poke him all over with her fingers, frantically searching for a pulse. But there was no reason to do so. The boy was clearly not breathing. William looked like a skeleton. His chalky skin was pulled so tight against his bones that his veins looked huge and misshapen. His eyes were closed, but there were large ugly brownish circles underneath them. He was a corpse.

Debbie uttered a loud cry and placed William's head in her lap. Jim stood behind her with one hand over his mouth and tears streaming down his face. Scully, meanwhile, was beating on the child's chest with all her might. She would beat, then open up his mouth and blow a lungful of fresh air into it and continue to hammer away again.

This went on for a full minute until Bryce put a hand on Scully's shoulder. "It's over," he said. "You can't do anymore for him."

Scully whipped her head around. Her normally sweet face and delicate features had mutated into the face of a rabid madwoman. "Don't say that!" She screamed, her voice cracking. "DON'T YOU EVER SAY THAT!!!" She turned back to William and continued to perform pointless CPR. But as time wore on, the clearer it became that nothing could be done and the chest compressions grew less and less frantic. Finally, they ceased altogether,

Jim and Debbie raised their heads in unison and stared at Scully, unable to comprehend what was going on. But all they needed to do was take one look at William and then it all became clear.

Mulder watched Scully take William's body in her arms and cry – the choked, silent cries of absolute unspeakable grief. He watched Jim and Debbie join in. Their bodies quivering and shivering as they reached out with shaky hands to touch the cold face of their son. And then the three of them fell to their knees as one, sobbing and gasping, pleading for it not to be true.

Mulder watched all this feeling disconnected. William had been his son, and yet he had never really connected with him. He had never played catch with him, never given him a piggyback ride and he would never get a chance to have that father/son talk about sex. Something that all parents dreaded. Come to think of it, Mulder had never even told William that he loved him. There had just never been the chance.

No. That wasn't true. There had been plenty of chances. The first was when William had been born. Mulder had been there, but had to leave as soon as William had come into the world. The Syndicate had been after him and he had to run to stay alive. He had left both William and Scully. At the time, he had taken it for granted that he would be able to see them both again sometime in the future. But then the news cam that William had been put up for adoption, and oh, how Mulder had despaired then! But 10 years later, on the streets of Washington, he dropped back into his life like an atom bomb. Mulder had lived with William for _six months, _but had never formed a close relationship with him.

So many chances and he hadn't taken a one of them. If given the choice to do it all over again, he would've never left his son in the first place.

Mulder bent at the waist, put his head in his hands and sobbed like a baby. He really had failed, after all. He had failed as a father. And that was what mattered most.

Mulder, Scully and the others were so swept up in their grief that they didn't notice a black form make its way through the crowd and over to the body.

"Let me see the boy."

Mulder looked up and saw one of the faceless Rebels with his hands outstretched. Scully brushed a strand of hair away from William's face and hiccupped. "W-w-what for?" She asked through sobs.

The Rebel said nothing more. He just continued to stand there with his hands out. Finally, Scully handed over the boy's body to him, sobbing anew at the way William's head bobbed lifelessly back as the alien took hold of him.

The Rebel bent his featureless face down and placed one scarred hand over William's forehead.

Suddenly, a faint glimmer of hope began to shine in the dark recesses of Mulder's mind. He took a wary step forward. "Can you … can you help him?"

"We shall see," the Rebel responded simply,

They must've stayed like that, frozen with anticipation, for only a few seconds but it seemed like forever. All the survivors, not just William's family, but everyone, crowded around to see what was happening. For a long time, it seemed like nothing _would_ happen, but then, William's skin began to take on a healthier peach tone and the circles beneath his eyes began to fade away.

"Look!" Debbie cried. "Look at that! It's working! Oh, thank God!" She tugged on the sleeve of the Rebel's jumpsuit and bounced up and down on her feet. "You're doing it! You're doing it! Keep on!"

William's skin loosened its death-grip on his skeleton and before long, it looked as if he were only sleeping. And then – and then William did the impossible. He opened his eyes.

"Wassgoinon?" He mumbled in a sleepy haze.

Scully broke out into an unattractive smile and covered his face with wet kisses. Debbie filled in the spots she missed. The Rebel said nothing more as he sat the now-healthy and fully alert William on the ground. Jim scooped the poor kid up and put him up on his shoulders, something that must've hurt a great deal, but the joy of the moment was so great that everything else faded into the background.

The Rebel turned to walk off, but Mulder stopped him. "Thank you," he said.

The alien nodded and dug into his pocket for something. "I found this," he said, as he held up a small golden cross dangling at the end of a broken chain. "Does it belong to anyone?"

"That's mine!" William exclaimed.

Jim bent down so he could retrieve it and William moved to put the thing back around his neck, but stopped when he realized it was broken. He looked as if he were about to cry, when Debbie smiled and put a reassuring hand on his. She reached up and undid her own necklace – a simple silver chain – took the cross from William and threaded it through. She handed it back with a smile.

William nodded in thanks and put it around his neck. Mulder shook his head, laughing silently to himself. That little old necklace had been misplaced and found so many times it wasn't even funny. Maybe it really _was_ good luck.

The survivors stood there in awkward silence for a good while, afraid to speak. Afraid that by doing so, they might disrupt this delicate new peacefulness. Eventually, Alfeo spoke up. "So, is it over? I mean … is it really?"

The Rebel nodded solemnly. "It's over."

The silence remained until it was broken by a shrill scream a few moments later. William stooped playing with his necklace and shot his head up. Scully gasped suddenly and the Rebel raised his cattle-prod weapon high up into the air, ready to combat this new menace. Mulder looked around, his heart hammering hard in his chest. What else could there be? He didn't have the energy to fight any more!

But what he saw made him question everything he had ever held sacred.

Marita was off to the side, her hands up in the air and a massive smile all over her face. It wasn't a grin or a sly smirk. It was an actual honest-to-goodness full-fledged _smile. _She caught the confused looks of everyone else and she screamed again. She threw back her head and began to twirl around like a mental patient. And then came a sound totally alien to all of them: The sound of Marita laughing. She put a hand to her chest and dissolved into laughter. She was free. For the first time in her life, a heavy burden had been lifted from her shoulders and she was totally _free_.

The sound of Marita's giggles shattered the tense atmosphere and the survivors broke out into their own laughter.

"It's over!" Screamed Bryce.

"Over!" Alfeo threw back his head and swore loudly. "Thank God almighty!" He took Debbie's face in his hands and laid a juicy kiss on her. "It's over, BABY!!"

Debbie smiled uncertainly and wiped the slobber off her cheek. "It really is over, isn't it?" She asked Scully.

Scully clapped her hands, still laughing and assured her that it was, in fact, over.

The crowd erupted into cheers and Alfeo grabbed William from Jim and lifted him up onto his own shoulders. Still swearing like a sailor, he pumped his fist into the air and started in on a hopelessly off-key rendition of "Happy Birthday to You". It was the only thing he could think of to honor William.

As the survivors clapped, hollered and cheered, the Rebel began to move away. Mulder held up a hand for him to stop. "What are you going to do now?"

But before the Rebel could answer, Mulder continued on. "I think I speak for the entire population of Earth when I say that you and your kind are more than welcomed to stay here."

Scully nodded and wiped away a tear. "Please. Stay. I can never thank you enough for what you did. Helping William, I mean. The Earth can be your home, too."

It was hard to tell, because the alien had no face, but it seemed like he was smiling. "I appreciate your offer, but I must decline. This is your planet now. For the first time since its creation, it truly does belong only to you. My people and I are content to live amongst the stars for however long we have left."

Mulder and Scully nodded. They were disappointed, but they understood that the Earth could never take the place of their old home. The one they destroyed themselves to keep the Colonists from having it.

The Rebel turned to join his fellow people but at the last second, he stopped. "Take good care of the boy," he said, gesturing toward William. "He is a very special person. _They_ even knew it."

"They?" Mulder and Scully asked in unison.

"The Colonists," the Rebel said. He bent down and retrieved a piece of the Space-Palace from the ground. It was still covered in those odd symbols, but they weren't glowing anymore. "The Colonists could peer into the future using Purity and they had a habit of decorating their vessels with what they saw in their visions. This piece right here mentions William by name and how he could eventually defeat them."

Mulder and Scully enchained looks. "But if that were true," Scully said. "Why did they even try to colonize? If they knew it would end in defeat?"

The Rebel threw the chunk of spaceship back onto the pile of others. "They had too much faith in their abilities. They thought they could change the future." He shook his head. "But they couldn't. Nobody can alter destiny. "

And with a wave, the Rebel turned and joined the others, who disappeared in a blinding flash of white light. Mulder watched as their circular ships took off up through the clouds, musing on the fact that he would never again see a UFO as long as he lived. And that was just fine with him.

Then the stormy skies overhead parted to reveal a bright and sunny blue day. The yellow rays of the sun pierced through the black clouds and soon, there wasn't one left in the sky. It was as if God Himself had given the humans down below His seal of approval for a job well done.

It was the morning of December 22nd, 2012 and everything was just fine.

Mulder felt the sun beat down on his face and smiled. They had won. After all the time spent worrying and praying, they had won. Ten years ago, when he had first glimpsed the date set for the final alien invasion at Mount Weather, he had been filled with a sense of total helplessness. He had been afraid to tell Scully. He had been too afraid to even admit it to himself. Later, in a motel room in Roswell after the trial, Mulder confessed to Scully that "The date was set and couldn't be changed." Scully had refused to believe it.

"You wouldn't tell me. Not because you were afraid or broken, but because you didn't want to accept defeat." That's what she had told him. But she had been wrong. That night inside that room, Mulder had given up. He _had_ accepted defeat. But Scully wouldn't allow him to feel sorry for himself. She had pulled him through. Like she always had.

And now, 10 years later, everything had worked out just fine.

"Oh, I almost forgot!"

Mulder looked and saw William, still on Alfeo's shoulders. "They came to me again while I was asleep. They wanted me to say hi to you."

"Who?" Scully asked quizzically.

William frowned. "I think they said their names were Melissa and Samantha."

And then he was gone. He had disappeared into the crowd.

Mulder felt a warm hand slip into his. Scully looked up at him and smiled. Neither one of them questioned what William had said. They had been through too much, see too many things not to believe.

"So," Scully said. "What now?"

Mulder sighed and popped his neck. Was there anybody left alive on the planet besides the pathetic few gathered around him? He felt sure there was. There had to be at least a few people out there. And when he thought of them, huddled in basements, dazed and confused as to what had just happened, he felt a great swell of pity for them.

"We know the truth," he said. "Now we just have to spread it."

THE END


End file.
